Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls
by MorticiaYouSpokeFrench
Summary: Voldemort succeeds in stealing the philosopher's stone, but not all is as it seems.
1. The Truth

My new Harry Potter fanfic! I hope you enjoy it. It's dedicated to Cynthia, who's probably way too preoccupied to be reading fan fiction right now, but who I want to know, if she eventually ends up reading this, that my thoughts and love are with her.

The first two paragraphs are quoted from the first book.

* * *

 **Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls**

 **Part I: Nicolas**

 **Chapter One: The Truth**

 **Year One**

 _"I always value bravery" the chalk-white face smirked evilly "Yes, boy, your parents were brave… I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight… but your mother needn't have died… she was trying to protect you… Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."_

 _"NEVER!"_

Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "STOP HIM!" and the next second Harry felt heat against his cheek at a red spell shot past him, missing him by a hairsbreadth.

Quirrell raised his wand to cast this spell again, but this time Harry was expecting it, and he ducked under the spell with an ease that came from months of dodging Bludgers at Quidditch practice. Quirrell scowled and cast the spell again. Once again, Harry smoothly avoided it. Quirrell's face was twisted in a snarl of frustration.

"You can't keep on dodging spells forever, Potter. I'm going to hit you eventually. Might as well just give it up now."

"Wanna bet?" taunted Harry "I could go at this all night, 'sfar as I'm concerned."

Quirrell rolled his eyes, and lazily raised his wand in the air "Accio Stone" he incanted, and Harry watched in horror as the Philosopher's Stone shot out of his pocket, and before he could grab at it, landed straight into Quirrell's hands.

Quirrell examined the Stone with a look of rapt fascination. Now that the Stone was in his possession, he seemed to have forgotten Harry. Harry tried to take advantage of his distraction by creeping up on him, hoping to knock the Stone out of his hand, but he had hardly taken a step when Quirrell waved his wand distractedly at him, and Harry found himself bound in ropes for the second time that night.

Quirrell spared him a cruel smirk "It's been a pleasure, Potter, but I'm afraid I must be off. Dumbledore will probably be here any second." he removed his turban, tapped it with his wand, muttering "Portus". The turban glowed blue for a couple of seconds, and a rumbling noise emerged from it, before it stilled again. Before Harry could so much as blink, Quirrell had lightly placed his hand on it, and vanished noiselessly.

No sooner had Quirrell departed, and a tall figure rushed through the flaming entrance. It was Albus Dumbledore, but not as Harry had ever seen him before. His hand was held aloft like a sword being held expertly in the hand of a dueling champion, and there was a truly chilling coldness in his eyes as he glanced at the place where Quirrell had been only seconds before.

"I'm so sorry Professor!" gasped Harry, trying to keep standing straight "I tried to stop him, but he knew so much more magic than me, I didn't have a chance."

Dumbledore turned to look at Harry, and his eyes softened. "I'm not blaming you, Harry. You did the best you could. Voldemort is one of the most skilled wizards in the world, and Quirrell himself is quite an accomplished duelist; it would be quite unfair of me to expect you to succeed."

Harry nodded at him gratefully, and Dumbledore smiled gently as he waved his wand and dissolved the ropes around Harry.

"In fact," Dumbledore added "I am quite impressed with how far you did manage to get. Not every eleven-year-old could have gotten this far in my obstacle course."

Harry felt his neck warm, and looked down shyly. Then, he raised his head up in surprise as something occurred to him "Sir? How did you know it was really Quirrell who stole the Stone? And how did you know it was for Voldemort? We all thought it was Snape!"

"Professor Snape, Harry" corrected Dumbledore gently "And as for your question, I think you will find that if you fight someone as long as I have been fighting Lord Voldemort, you tend to recognize their ah, shall we say, unique style. This plan had Lord Voldemort written all over it, unfortunately, though I had hoped that I was wrong. And now, Harry, there is much to do. It is quite unfortunate that Voldemort has managed to acquire the Philosopher's Stone, but all hope might not be lost yet. My friend Nicolas Flamel has been anticipating it being stolen for quite some time, and I think he might just have prepared for the situation of it falling into the wrong hands. So the next step would be to contact Nicolas immediately and tell him what has happened. Would you care to come with me to my office?"

Harry gaped at Dumbledore "You're letting me come with you?"

Dumbledore put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Tonight, Harry, you have taken upon yourself the responsibility of an adult, and as such I feel that you have the right to be treated like one. Most children would have been too scared to try and do anything about the Stone being stolen. By taking initiative, I feel that you have proven to me that you are mature enough to know what is happening."

Harry felt his face heat up once again and muttered his thanks.

"Not at all, Harry" chuckled Dumbledore "Now come."

They made their way through the fire to the riddle room, where Dumbledore selected the same bottle Hermione had used, drank from it, and instructed Harry to take a sip himself. They both passed through the purple flames, and emerged in the room with the chess pieces. They were all repaired and had already reset themselves to the starting position of the game.

Harry looked around for Ron, and Dumbledore caught his movement. "I have already sent Mr. Weasley up to the hospital wing where he is being taken care of by Madam Pomfrey and your loyal friend Miss Granger is there with him. You may join them once we finish our conversation with Nicolas."

"Thank you, Sir." Said Harry earnestly, feeling a weight slide off his back.

They reached the opening in short time, Dumbledore levitating them over the Devil's Snare, through the trapdoor, to the room where Fluffy was still snoring as a radio in the corner hummed out classical music.

A short walk later, Harry found himself facing a very ugly gargoyle, which moved aside once Dumbledore uttered the password "Pumpkin Pasty". After a short ride up a moving spiral staircase the somewhat reminded Harry of muggle escalators, they were deposited outside a wooden door that Dumbledore gently pushed and entered, revealing his office.

It was a brightly lit circular room with a large desk in front of a large shelf on which the sorting hat perched. Above the shelf, were rows and rows of portraits, all of them seemed to be napping, though a rather ugly man with a black moustache was still awake and watching them curiously. Scattered around the room were little spindly-legged tables carrying strange little silvery instruments, making all kinds of curious noises. One was emitting puffs of smoke every few seconds.

A beautiful red and gold bird was perched on the desk, and made a musical chirp of recognition as Dumbledore entered. Harry felt his insides warm, and the pressure building inside his chest ease a little, and looked at the bird in surprise, but it had gone silent again.

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry." Explained Dumbledore "Its song is famous for its soothing and calming effect. It is the reason that phoenix vocal chords are a common ingredient in most calming potions."

Harry resolved to never drink a calming potion ever, and nodded his understanding.

Dumbledore made his way to the back of the room, retrieved a chain of keyes from his pocket, and unlocked a great black cabinet standing against the wall. Harry gaped in shock as the cabinet door opened to reveal a fireplace. A real, honest-to-Merlin fireplace, flames crackling in it merrily, sitting inside the cabinet.

Dumbledore went to his desk, took a handful of greenish powder from a curiously carved bowl on his desk, then returned to the fireplace and threw the powder into the flames.

To Harry's surprise, the fire turned emerald green. Sometimes Harry forgot how little he knew of the wizarding world until he encountered one more thing of which he had no knowledge. Before Harry could recover from the shock, Dumbledore had already bent down, and placed his head inside the fire!

The fire seemed to have no adverse affect on Dumbledore, who called out "Number Two, Deadman's Lane, London!" There was a pause for a couple of minutes before Harry heard Dumbledore's voice again, muffled through the fire.

"Perenelle! It's me, Albus…. Yes…. I'm quite sorry to be calling at such an hour, but it's an emergency. Could you please ask Nicolas to come over immediately?... Thank you, Perenelle, again, apologies for the late hour…. Good night."

Dumbledore removed his head from the fire, and the fire returned to its original colour.

Walking slowly to his desk, the Headmaster sat down on a huge chair behind his desk, and gestured for Harry to sit down as well. Harry lowered himself into a chair facing the Headmaster's desk, and waited to see if Dumbledore would say something, but he seemed content to sit in silence, waiting for Nicolas Flamel to arrive.

A few minutes had passed, and Harry had started to fidget on his chair nervously, when he heard a whishing sound behind him, and turned to see a tall figure stepping out of the fire. Harry figured this must be Nicolas Flamel.

He looked different from Harry's expectations. Harry had imagined him extremely old and wrinkled and wise, but exuding an air of energy. A bit like an older version of Dumbledore. After all, if there was anyone else in the wizarding world who he could imagine discovering how to make a Philosopher's Stone, it was Dumbledore.

The figure standing in front of him was nothing like Dumbledore. For one thing, he didn't look old at all, he looked like one of those men whose age could be anywhere from thirty to fifty, but there was something wrong with his features. Harry couldn't quite place it, but it was as if his features were blurred, or slightly melted. Nevertheless, he was quite a handsome man- tall, with short black hair and brown eyes.

"Dumbledore!" he announced, and strode straight up to the Headmaster's huge desk, paying no attention to Harry. Harry couldn't decide if the man hadn't noticed him, or if he was simply ignoring him. Either way he said nothing, and watched the following interaction in silence.

"You said it was an emergency." Said Flamel, ignoring the Dumbledore's offer to take a seat "I assume that means there was another attempt to steal the Stone. Was it successful?"

Dumbledore nodded his head gravely "Yes, Nicolas, I'm afraid it was."

Nicolas Flamel nodded "I figured as much. Why have you called me here?"

"Well, back in July, when I first broached the subject of the Stone being in danger of being stolen, you assured me that the Stone had plenty of protections on it. I think we have reached the time for you to reveal to me the protections you have placed on the Stone so that we may use them to prevent Lord Voldemort from using it before it is too late. Was there perhaps some sort of spell on the Stone that allowed you to summon it back to your house if it ever got lost?"

With a wry smile, Flamel shook his head. "No, Albus, there was no such protection on the Stone. However, you need not worry, I am quite confident in my spellwork. Voldemort will not manage to produce elixir of life from the Stone."

"I would feel more confident if I knew the precise nature of the spells you have placed on it." Insisted Dumbledore.

"I think not, young man" replied Flamel "I have put extremely powerful spells on the Stone. Spells that, if knowledge of them was to fall into the wrong hands, could cause quite a bit of damage and devastation. Now, I believe that you would not misuse these spells, Albus" he said, holding up his hand at Dumbledore's protest "but I don't trust this information to stay with you. I can't ignore the fact that you brought a complete stranger into this meeting without consulting me." here he turned to Harry for the first time. "All these details are extremely sensitive, and yet you see fit to let this young man know everything that is going on."

Harry, feeling extremely uncomfortable, was about to offer to leave the room, when Dumbledore spoke for him: "Harry here discovered Voldemort's plot to steal the Stone on his own, and once failing to contact me, he went after the thief himself, trying to stop him from getting it. He braved all my traps and obstacles in order to try and prevent the Stone falling into the wrong hands. I trust him with this information."

Nicolas Flamel's eyes widened in shock, and he glanced at Harry, looking impressed. "This boy managed to subvert all your obstacles and traps? But he can't be more than twenty years old!" he turned to Harry "A man of such meager experience getting through traps set by Dumbledore is quite a feat, I am impressed."

"You have lived so long, Nicolas, that you are no longer a good judge of age in other people. Harry is eleven years old." Corrected Dumbledore gently.

"Eleven?!" exclaimed Flamel "On his first year ever of magical training he has managed to accomplish this?"

He squatted down till his eyes were level with Harry's and scrutinized his face carefully. "He must be a prodigy! A genius!" his face now held true respect as he searched Harry's face carefully.

Harry felt his face heat up at the undeserved compliments. "I'm really not all that smart, honestly. It was mostly Hermione! All I did was play the flute to put Fluffy to sleep, and catch the key. I mean, I guess I'm really good at flying, but I'm not a prodigy or anything like that!"

"Fluffy?" Nicolas Flamel was now looking quite puzzled "Don't sell yourself short child. I don't know the exact nature of the enchantments your Headmaster had put around my Stone, but I do know that he is a wizard of the highest caliber. Even finding the place in which the Stone was hidden must have taken astounding magical talent. Now you must explain to me, who is this Fluffy, what is this key you speak of, and what does it have to do with flying?"

"Fluffy was the first thing guarding the Stone. He's a huge dog with three heads." Harry said, starting to explain.

Nicolas nodded, and then said "Start from the beginning. I want to know exactly how it is that you managed to discover that there was a Stone in the first place, and how you discovered where it was. Then tell me about the traps you needed to face."

His eyes were glinting, and he was looking at Harry eagerly. Harry felt slightly bad about the disappointment Flamel was bound to suffer- there really wasn't anything extraordinary about his magical powers, and Flamel would realize that soon enough. Perhaps he would want to talk to Hermione? She was the smart one, after all.

Harry looked nervously at Dumbledore.

"Oh, this is much more important than breaking a few school rules!" cried Flamel "I assume that's what you're worried about? Do not worry, I will personally make sure that you will not get into any trouble for whatever it is you have done to find the Stone!"

Harry nodded, and started by telling him about Dumbledore's announcement at the feast at the beginning of the year.

"But that's absurd!" cried Flamel "Announcing to the public where the Stone was hidden would have made Voldemort's work so much easier! I'm sorry Albus, but I must say I'm quite disappointed."

Harry looked nervously between Nicolas, who was looking quite upset, to Dumbledore, who was staring at Nicolas with an inscrutable expression.

"I had my own reasons to do what I did, Nicolas, and I can only hope that you will give me the benefit of the doubt, and trust me to have known what I was doing."

Flamel nodded "You are right, Albus. I will reserve judgment until I hear the rest of the story. I apologize for interrupting, Harry. Please continue."

Harry haltingly told Flamel about the midnight duel and discovering Fluffy. He told him about his conversations with Hagrid, about the conversations he overheard between Quirrell and Snape, and about realizing that Hagrid had accidentally given away the secret to getting past Fluffy. He talked about sneaking out with Ron and Hermione, about going through the trapdoor, the Devil's Snare, the flying keys, the game of Chess, the already knocked out troll, the logic puzzle, and finally- Quirrell, Voldemort, and the Mirror of Erised.

When Harry reached the point of the story in which the Stone suddenly appeared in his pocket, Dumbledore interrupted in order to explain. "I believe I can explain how the Philosopher's Stone ended up in your pocket, Harry. I have placed quite an ingenious enchantment, if I may say so myself, on the mirror, which only give the Philosopher's Stone to one who wished to find it. Find it, but not use it for their own selfish means. A person who wanted to use the stone so that they could live forever or be rich, would simply see themselves drinking elixir of life, or sitting in a pile of gold. Your pureness of intention is what allowed you to succeed in getting the stone where Quirrell failed."

"Oh," mumbled Harry "Okay, so I guess that's why the Stone went into my pocket." Then he proceeded to tell Dumbledore and Flamel about what had happened after he had got the Stone, lowering his head in shame when he reached the part where Quirrell had taken the Stone and escaped.

When his story was finished, Harry looked nervously up at Nicolas Flamel, who had gone quite pale during the telling of the story.

"…So you see, Sir," he finished awkwardly, "I don't really have any great magical powers after all, I just had smart friends and a bit of luck."

Nicolas's lips twitched and a small smile formed on his face "No, you went after Voldemort without having any special magical talent or reason to believe that you would be able to stop him. That is extraordinary in quite a different way. Call me Nicolas, Harry."

Harry felt the blush that had finally left his face return in full force. Nicolas winked at him and then turned to Dumbledore. "I'll admit that I was unsure about letting you remove the Stone from Gringotts, but I was glad I had consented to it once I learned about the break-in and the near miss. I saw it as confirmation that you were trustworthy. Now, I don't know what to think."

"Nicolas," implored Dumbledore "trust me when I say I had my reasons. I wouldn't endanger your Stone and your life for no reason. I am very sorry that I cannot explain my motivations at the moment, but trust me when I say I knew what I was doing."

Nicolas had frozen in place, though. "I had forgotten about that. Now that the Stone's gone, Perenelle and I have nothing to keep us in this world. I dearly hope that you had a good reason for guarding my Stone so carelessly, Dumbledore, though you won't tell me what it was. Let our deaths be on your head."

"Nicolas" there was endless sorrow in Dumbledore's blue eyes "I am really and truly sorry."

Harry stared at Flamel in horror, the repercussions of him no longer having the Stone suddenly clear to him. To his surprise, Flamel was smiling, but there was a bitter edge to his smile "I have enough Elixir of Life stored up to last Perenelle and I for a short while yet. Long enough to get all our affairs in order, certainly. Though I feel that I know you well enough by now to know your intentions were good, Albus, I don't think I can forget what I have discovered tonight. You probably won't be seeing me again."

Dumbledore lowered his eyes "I understand, old friend, and I do not blame you. Goodbye."

Nicolas tilted his head to him in return "Goodbye Albus, I hope for your sake that you know what you are doing. I must return home and share the news with Perenelle. First, though, I would like to have a private conversation with Harry. Surely that isn't too much trouble, Albus?"

For a split second, Harry thought Dumbledore was going to protest, but he bowed his head, and gave them permission to use any empty classroom they would like for their conversation.

Nicolas strode out the door to the office, and Harry followed him, feeling too scared to look at Dumbledore, too scared to see the powerful, energetic wizard bowed down with the weight of regret. He strode out silently, without looking back.

Nicolas led Harry down the hall, and pulled him into the first empty classroom they came across. Shutting the door behind them, Nicolas waved his wand at the door in a few complex movements, muttering in a language that sounded like Latin. "Silencing charms." He explained to Harry.

Turning, he waved his wand, transfigured two of the chairs behind one of the desks into comfy-looking couches. He sat down in one, and gestured for Harry to sit in the other.

Harry was feeling quite confused by now, but sat down, turning his seat to face the alchemist, and waited for him to speak. There were a few seconds of silence, and then Nicolas sighed and looked at Harry.

"I don't like what's going on here, Harry. You don't deserve to be involved in the mess that seems to have come of this whole story, but somehow it seems like you are in the very center of these sinister events. You are a good kid, Harry, and I want to help you, you don't deserve to be part of this nasty business."

"Nasty business?" questioned Harry "I'm not sure I understand."

"War is always nasty business" replied Nicolas with a wry smile "and it did appear to me that you did not understand the extent to which you have been played."

"Sir?"

"Harry, I am sure that you are a very accomplished young wizard, but there should have been no way for you to get past Albus Dumbledore's traps. He is one of the most skilled wizards of this century. For a young boy who only discovered magic this year, a three-headed dog and a giant Chess match must have seemed like quite the obstacle. But note that you were able to overcome every single trap in the whole mess without using any spell more complicated than the fire spell. You do not understand the extent of Dumbledore's magical powers. I do.

"Let me give you an example: There is an enchantment that the ancient Egyptians used in order to guard their tombs. They concealed the openings to their tombs with such obscure spells, that in order to discover where the opening to them is, you must run your arms over the entire pyramid, muttering a very specific and complex enchantment, until you find the location of the opening. Now, I happen to know that Albus Dumbledore is familiar with this enchantment, because during our correspondence in the days of his youth, I explained this enchantment to him as an example of the use of Arithmancy in combination with potions in concealing spells. Albus was very interested in the spell, and made quite an effort to study that particular enchantment. I expected him to use that spell for sure. Voldemort's servant would have had to run his hand over every part of the castle until he found the opening to the room in which the Stone was kept, and do it without being detected or discovered. It would have taken him months and months just to find where the Stone was hidden. And what did Albus do? He just announced out loud to the whole school that the third corridor was forbidden, making it obvious to anyone who knew about the Stone, that it was being kept there. It was incredibly irrational and irresponsible!"

Harry felt as if his stomach had sunken to his knees. He now felt extremely foolish for being so flattered when Dumbledore had kindly told him that 'not every eleven-year-old could have gotten so far' in his obstacle course. Finding out that Dumbledore could easily have done a spell so complex that Harry would never have even been able to find the place of the Philosopher's Stone, never mind get into it, made Harry feel sick to his stomach.

Normally, he would not have been so quick to believe Nicolas Flamel. Dumbledore had always stricken him as a very kind and wise old man, with pure intentions and just the slightest bit of mischief in him. Harry would have been much more inclined to disbelieve Flamel if it weren't for a few simple reasons: Dumbledore was acknowledged far and wide as one of the most skilled wizards of the century. It was quite difficult to believe that he couldn't prepare an obstacle that wouldn't be overcome by a first-year student with hardly any knowledge of magic. In addition, the way Dumbledore had inclined his head guiltily at Nicolas's accusation that he had been lax in guarding the Stone, seemed like an admission of guilt to Harry.

He turned back to look at Nicolas who had now finished catching his breath, and had gone back to ranting. "And even if we assume that these protections were the very best that Albus could do, it still seems like he wanted Voldemort to get past the traps. Take the room with the last trap- the potions. The parchment with the riddle basically told Voldemort how to get past this trap. Why did he leave any potions at all? If he hadn't left any potions, the thief would have been stuck in that room between the two fires for quite a while! At the very least he could have filled all of the vials with poison, with the hope that Voldemort might actually poison himself, but he did no such thing! By telling the thief how to get through the trap, he was basically encouraging him to continue his attempts to steal the Stone!"

"Why?" Harry asked, feeling confused and scared "Why would Dumbledore do that?"

"I don't know, Harry, but that isn't the only thing that concerned me: Voldemort is a very talented wizard. I have never had the opportunity to duel him personally, but I have dueled with Albus before, and the fact that Albus hasn't managed to defeat him yet tells me that the stories of his great magical power are true.

"As such, there is absolutely no way that Voldemort would have failed to get past any of the traps. He is quite the intelligent man. You say that he was having trouble getting past Fluffy for most of the year, but he could have easily put the person who fed Fluffy under the Imperius curse, a curse that forces the person under it to do whatever the caster orders him to do" he added at Harry's look of incomprehension "and made that person put poison, or a sleeping potion in Fluffy's food. So, we have established that Voldemort could have gotten to the Stone within a week. The only obstacle that would really have slowed him down would have been the Mirror of Erised, and according to what you told me about your encounter with it during Christmas, we see that that particular trap was only implemented four months into the school year, Voldemort should have had the Stone and been long gone by then. But instead, he chooses to only attempt to steal the Stone at the very end of the year, which happens to conveniently be the same day you discover how to get past Fluffy. It seems to me, Harry, that both Dumbledore and Voldemort wanted you to be down there in the chamber when the Philosopher's Stone was stolen."

He finished his speech, and looked down at Harry, at which point his eyes softened. Harry figured that he was probably very pale and looked quite terrified, and Nicolas was worried for him.

"Harry, I promise you that I will do all that is within my power to help you. Something very suspicious is going on around here, and you seem to be in the center of it. I will admit that I do not understand neither Albus nor Voldemort's reasons for involving you, but you are a good child, and I will do all that is in my power to help you get out of this mess. I just wish I could understand what is so special about you that has caused two such powerful wizards to involve you in their matters."

"Well," said Harry slowly, "not that I'm saying I'm special or anything, but maybe it's because they think that I've defeated Voldemort when I was a baby."

"Defeated Volde-" Nicolas began, then stopped, eyes wide "When Dumbledore called you 'Harry' earlier, I didn't think. Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded, feeling quite awkward. He knew he wasn't at all like other people imagined Harry Potter to be- a brave and powerful wizard who was scared of nothing. He was afraid to disappoint yet another person.

Nicolas wasn't looking disappointed, though, he was looking pensive. "Well, that certainly explains some things. Perhaps Dumbledore thought that if you were to encounter Voldemort again you would somehow manage to vanquish him once and for all? And you said that Voldemort tried to convince you to join his side, perhaps that was Voldemort's motivation for wanting you there?

"But that still leaves quite a few questions. Why would they both put so much stock in you defeating Voldemort? Please don't be offended, Harry, but from what I head of what happened that night that you defeated Voldemort, I had gotten the impression that it was your mother's sacrifice that caused Voldemort's killing curse to rebound back on him, not anything to do with you.

"Albus wrote to me, you know, after the night your parents were killed. He wanted to know my opinion on whether it was possible for your mother's sacrifice to have protected you. Because I have so many years of experience with different kinds of magic, people often write to me asking for my opinion on some enchantment. I replied to Dumbledore that it was my belief that your mother's love for you was, in fact, the thing that had saved you. That means that it was your mother who really vanquished Voldemort, not you. You were only a baby, you have nothing to do with it. I hope this knowledge doesn't distress you."

Harry wasn't distressed, he was relieved. "That's what I keep on trying to tell people! It couldn't have been me, I was just a baby, I don't know any special magic or anything!"

Nicolas smiled. "It is good to see that you have not allowed your fame to get to your head, but have rather thought about the matter rationally. However, this still leaves us with a mystery: If we have established that your survival and Voldemort's defeat occurred because of your mother, why are Voldemort and Albus so interested in you?"

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Neither do I." admitted Nicolas "But I'll tell you what: I will give you a way to communicate with me, and if you ever discover more about this mystery, or if you ever need my help, contact me, and I will do my very best to assist you."

He waved his wand, and a piece of parchment appeared out of this air. After that, Nicolas traced his wand over the parchment as if it were a quill, and words appeared on the parchment just as if Nicolas had written using an actual quill. "This is my address." He explained "If you were to send a letter simply addressed to 'Nicolas Flamel' it would find its way into the pile of mail I get from different scholars around the world. This address is for my friends and family- it will ensure that your letter will arrive straight into my hands, and that I will see it right away. I have a feeling that your troubles aren't over yet, Harry. Write to me if you need help."

Harry nodded his head gratefully, and stowed the piece of parchment safely in his pocket. He dearly hoped that Nicolas would still be alive when he actually needed help, seeing as now that he no longer had a constant supply of Elixir of Life he was going to die eventually. He didn't say anything, though, he thought it would be tactless to remind the man of his eventual demise. Especially as Nicolas looked quite a bit cheerier now, and Harry couldn't help but think that he had forgotten for a short while that he and his wife were now going to die.

Should Harry say something? He cleared his throat awkwardly "I'm really sorry about the Stone."

To Harry's confusion, Nicholas didn't look sad or worried, he looked slightly uncomfortable. "Uh… It's fine, Harry. Don't worry about it."

"I can't forget it." replied Harry "It's kind of my fault that is was stolen, because maybe if it weren't for me Professor Dumbledore would have guarded the Stone properly instead of making it so that I could get to it. I really feel bad for this, especially after everything you've done for me. So thank you. Really. I can't say how sorry I am."

Now Nicholas was looking positively guilty. He scratched his head awkwardly, and looked down at Harry for a long time. "I need to tell you something, Harry. This is very secret, and I really shouldn't be telling you this, but I can't let you live with this kind of guilt, especially if it isn't your fault. So I'm going to tell you something, but I need you to know that this is very sensitive information that could do a lot of damage if it fell into the wrong hands. The only reason I'm trusting you with this is because you are a good person and after what I've seen tonight, I believe you deserve to know. Especially if the lack of information will cause you to feel like my death is on your conscience. So I'm going to tell you, but first I will need to cast a spell to ensure that you will never be able to reveal what you have been told to anyone ever. I'm sorry for the lack of trust, but if this information falls into the wrong hands….. Well, I've seen what it causes and it's not pretty. Do you want to hear what I have to tell you?"

Harry considered it for a few seconds, and then nodded his assent.

"Very well." Said Nicolas. He got up, and started walking around the room, chanting something in an unfamiliar language while doing so. Once he had completed a circuit around the room, the walls glowed brightly for a moment, before returning to their normal color.

"The spell I have just cast will make you unable to reveal anything you hear while you are in this room. You will not be allowed to say it, write it, or even hint at it. The spell reads your intentions, so if you think of a different way to reveal the secret to another, it will prevent you from doing it. I'm sorry for the lack of trust, but I feel that this is a necessary precaution."

Nicolas faced Harry, and scrutinized him for a second, and then burst out laughing. "There's no need to look so serious Harry. I fear I have stressed the gravity of this information a bit too much. Back around 600 years ago, what I am about to tell you was common knowledge. True, when this knowledge was misused the results were devastating and the knowledge was buried, but only a very small handful of people did use it in the wrong way. I have full trust that everything will be fine and that you will do the right thing.

"Now, where should I start? You will probably be happy to hear that there is absolutely no chance of Voldemort managing to return to life with the help of the Stone, seeing as he didn't actually steal the Philosopher's Stone."

He chuckled at the look of surprise on Harry's face.

"You mean the Stone was a fake?" he had to confirm.

"Not only was it a fake, Harry, but I've never actually owned a Philosopher's Stone in the first place. In fact, I rather doubt it's possible to make one."

Harry's mouth had dropped open in shock, and Nicolas's lips were twitching as he suppressed the desire to burst out laughing once more.

"Allow me to explain. There is a phenomenon that has been documented to occur about once every century. The first recorded case happened around the fifth century, when a woman named Marian came to the greatest wizard of that era- Merlin, claiming that she and her husband were immortal. According to Marian, about three years into her marriage, she and her husband had stopped aging. Though she looked as if she were in her early twenties, Marian swore that she was over fifty. Her husband, Jeremiah, had died a fortnight before, having been tragically killed after the roof he was fixing for their home collapsed, and he was buried under the rubble. Jeremiah's spirit remained in this world, but not in the form of a ghost, but rather as a disembodied spirit that was actually capable of communicating with those around it and possessing small animals.

"Merlin was shocked, and after having preformed extensive tests, he came to the conclusion that the couple was indeed immortal, and even managed to design a ritual to give Jeremiah his body back.

"Merlin came to the following conclusion: the couple was so devoted to each other, that every time they kissed, every time they made love or even stroked their spouse's cheek, Jeremiah and Marian gave each other a tiny bit of their soul. By the time Jeremiah had died, half of his soul was in Marian's body, and was tying him to the mortal plane, preventing him from moving onwards.

"This phenomenon is called a Soulcrux. Since then, more couples have come forward, claiming to have created a Soulcrux between them. Many scoffed at this fanciful and romantic explanation, but I think that you, Harry, understand better than anyone just how far the power of love can go. After all, your mother's love for you is the reason that you are alive today."

"So, there's such a thing as soul mates?" Harry asked, grimacing slightly at the syrupy notion.

"I'm not sure." replied Nicolas thoughtfully "Are there some couples who are destined to meet each other and fall in love, or is it just that some people have a capacity to love and devote themselves to another that most others don't? Perenelle likes the idea of soul mates, I myself am not so certain."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "So you and Perenelle, you have a Soulcrux?"

"Yes."

"So why are you telling everyone that you're alive because of the Philosopher's Stone?" asked Harry, perplexed.

"I was just getting to that." replied Nicolas. "The Soulcrux was always a very obscure phenomenon that not many people were aware of, because of the rarity of something like it occurring. The century I was born in was very unusual though, in that the century before there had been more Soul-bound couples than there had ever been before- six, in fact. So around that time the Soulcrux was beginning to become common knowledge, instead of an obscure term that few recognized. By the time I was born, only one out of these six couples remained, but the Soulcrux was still something fairly well-known."

"Wait a second." interrupted Harry "If all those couples don't die, how could it be that out of six couples there was only one left? What happened to the other ones?"

Nicolas sighed. "What you need to understand, Harry, is that living forever isn't as glamorous as it sounds. In fact, it can get downright depressing. Waking up one day, and realizing that all your family and friends are dead by now, and all the people who ever knew them are dead too, and that in a hundred years or so everyone who is alive now will also be dead, that there is no one that remembers the time when you grew up, and soon, no one will remember this time either. It gets to you. Most of the couples decided to eventually let themselves die. Whenever one of them dies, their spouse is the one who keeps them alive, but if they both die- that is the end, and the couple will pass on.

"Perenelle and I are quite unusual in the amount of time we have lived. I think we have probably lived longer than any other soul-bound couple, but it's quite common for a couple to allow themselves to pass on after two or three centuries. Six centuries is quite the anomaly. Now, do you have anymore question, or shall I continue with the story?"

Harry shook his head "I think I understand everything now. You can continue."

"Around the time that Perenelle and I realized that we had formed a Soulcrux between us, there was a great stir in the magical world, when a man named Herpo Fawley, later to be known as Herpo the Foul, claimed to have discovered a way to replicate the effects of the Soulcrux without the need to meet the right person and fall in love. You can imagine that over the years many people were jealous of the immortality that we couples were granted, and were frustrated by their inability to find a person with whom they could form such a connection. Therefore, this announcement generated much interest and excitement all over the world.

"Very soon, though, the Fawley's method was announced, many people changed their minds about wanting to go through with it. According to Fawley, there was an additional way to separate your soul from you body- if it couldn't be done through love, then it could be accomplished by tearing up the soul.

"When a person experiences an act of extreme violence or hatred, it splinters their soul. Usually, if given time, the soul will heal on its own, usually therapy will help speed the process. The ritual Fawley presented, however, took advantage of the wound in the soul, and used it to separate a piece of soul from the main part, and seal it away in an object, thus tying the person to the mortal plane, with the same effect as a Soulcrux. An object such as this was called a Horcrux, as in horror, both for the terrible things a person needed to experience in order to splinter his soul, and for the horror that followed a person once the soul is splintered.

"The soul is only splintered by acts of extreme violence and hatred- it usually happens to victims of torture or rape, sometimes child abuse. If a person has not experienced anything like that and wants to create a Horcrux, they must perform an act or murder, rape or torture in order to splinter their soul.

"Once people realized this, most gave up on the idea; people weren't willing to sacrifice that much in order to be immortal. Still, there were some people who created a Horcrux: people who had experienced enough horror in their life to splinter their soul, and people who wanted immortality bad enough that they were willing to commit the atrocious acts necessary to splinter the soul. At the beginning, people were quite suspicious of the Horcrux, but it was still considered acceptable to make one, the main consensus was that if people wanted to splinter their own soul that was their choice to make.

"Things quickly changed, however, when the effects of having a Horcrux became clear. When a person's soul is splintered, it will heal eventually, naturally. Even people who have experienced even the worst atrocities are able to eventually move on with their life. A person who has experienced or witnessed sever violence, will ideally be able to get over it some day. With some time, and love from their family and friends, they will manage to wake up every morning without remembering what has happened, they will be able to make new experiences for themselves, they will learn to not be weighed down by their past. By making a Horcrux, though, you are not allowing the soul to heal. You are not allowing yourself to get over what has happened. A person who has made a Horcrux out of their experience with rape or torture, will constantly be feeling the way they did when their soul was torn- the terror, the horror, the hate.

"As a result, most of the people who created Horcruxes committed suicide within a couple of months at the very most. Some of them, though, the ones who created Horcruxes because of an intense will to survive, refused to commit suicide. Eventually, in order to deal with the intense emotional pain they went through every single day, people like this created more and more Horcruxes until their soul was so torn up that they were incapable of feeling any more emotion. They effectively became psychopaths.

"You can imagine how the wizarding world looked at that time: suicide rates were through the roofs, and people who used to have friends and family, who used to be loving and kind, were suddenly becoming psychopaths- killing anyone who got in their way, including their most loved ones. It was devastating.

"All the witches and wizards who hadn't made Horcruxes, which still constituted about 95 percent of the population, united in their fight against Horcruxes. All books about the creation of Horcruxes were burnt, family members were destroying their loved one's Horcruxes, and then trying to piece their souls back together. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes the person was too far gone to be able to recover, and had to be killed."

"How do you piece someone's soul back together?" asked Harry, morbidly curious.

"You need to destroy the Horcrux- the object in which the piece of soul is kept, so that the piece of soul inside can connect back to the original soul. There have been some cases in which the person did not want to destroy the Horcrux as the object it was in held sentimental or material value, and managed to achieve the same effect as destroying the Horcrux through other means. This was managed by repairing the soul from the even that caused it to be damaged in the first place. The method of accomplishing this differs, depending on how the soul was torn in the first place. A person who's soul was torn because of a traumatic event that they went through, can usually begin the process of mending the soul by talking about what has happened, and coming to terms with it. Therapy helps. A person who tore their soul by committing an act of violence and hatred, mends their soul by feeling remorse. In any case, it is quite an unpleasant process, but it did manage to save quite a few people who were lost to the madness of the Horcrux.

"Now let us return to the story. Within a decade, all the people who had created Horcruxes were either dead or healed. By general consensus, all books about Horcruxes had been destroyed and all Horcrux-related deaths were blamed on the black plague which was claiming millions of lives in the muggle world at that time. No one spoke of Horcruxes anymore, and within the next generation, all knowledge of them was lost, though I'm sure some of the darker families still secretly discussed these theories in private.

"Since the idea of Horcruxes was inspired by the phenomenon of the Soulcrux, books discussing the Soulcrux were destroyed as well. Perenelle and I were personally approached by many people with the request that should we live long enough to see the birth of a new generation, we would tell them nothing of the Soulcrux. Both Perenelle and I vowed to keep the knowledge to ourselves.

"We kept that promise, and so it happened, that around fifty years later, a time in which most people no longer knew what a Soulcrux was and Alchemy was the latest fashion in the wizarding world, people started to notice the Perenelle and I never aged. Rumors about Perenelle and I possessing the Philosopher's Stone started to surface. We would have denied the rumors, but we had no other explanation to give to why we were not aging. Finally, we decided to confirm the rumors and announce that we did indeed have the Philosopher's Stone. We said that it was I who invented it, since I myself had taken a keen interest in Alchemy during that time, and had accumulated enough knowledge on the subject that we would be able to make the story realistic. Sure enough, everyone bought the story.

"We explained our reluctance to display the Stone by explaining that we were afraid of it being stolen.

"But the Philosopher's Stone story turned out to be a problem as well. We were constantly waking up in the night to hear odd noises, only to realize that someone had broken into our house with the intention of stealing the Stone. Once, the thief even captured us and tried to torture Perenelle for information. Thank Merlin we are both accomplished enough fighters to fend him off."

"We tried leaking wrong information about our living quarters, claiming we lived in Devon rather than London, but a surprising amount of people still managed to find our living quarters despite my elaborate spell work- it seems that greed is quite a motivator to overcome even the most complex enchantments.

"Finally, I created a fancy-looking rock magically, deposited it in the bank, and let Gringotts deal with all the thieves. That's where it stayed until last July, when I got a curious letter from Albus Dumbledore saying that a supposedly dead dark lord was going to steal it. I told Dumbledore that I had placed many protections on the Stone, which I assume is why he didn't bother to put a simple anti-summoning charm on it, but after he insisted to guard it himself I thought I might as well let him."

"But it was all just an act?" confirmed Harry "Voldemort can't really use it to return to life? And you and your wife won't actually die?"

"Yes, Harry. You have nothing to worry about."

"You're a very good actor." said Harry admiringly "You seemed really angry at Dumbledore for not guarding the Stone."

"I was really angry at Dumbledore for not guarding the Stone. He thought he was holding my life in his hands, and he treated it so callously that I am, frankly, quite insulted. He took the risk of Voldemort returning to life for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, and endangered an innocent child's life in the process. My anger was certainly not an act."

"Oh." said Harry, slightly cowed.

"I do think, however, that my expression of grief and fear at the prospect of dying, was true theatrical genius." Added Nicolas with a sly smile.

Harry laughed politely, but then moved on to his real question "Why did you tell me all this, if you've worked so hard for so long to keep it secret?"

Nicolas's face shifted, as he sat up straighter and looked at Harry with an expression of utmost seriousness. "Well, firstly because I didn't want you to feel guilty over supposedly playing a part in my death, but there's another reason I felt you should know.

"Eleven years ago, when Voldemort tried to kill you, his killing curse rebounded on him, by all rights he should have died. And yet, tonight you have witnessed that he is still alive. Maybe not in the traditional form, but his soul is still present in the mortal plane. In fact, his form of existence is quite reminiscent of what happens to a person who is connected to the land of the living through a Soulcrux once they die."

Harry saw where this is going "So, Voldemort has a Soulcrux? No, wait, he's really crazy and evil, he has the other one. A Horcrux?"

"I have no proof, but it certainly seems like that might be the case. And since it looks like, for reasons of their own, both Albus and Voldemort are trying to create a situation where you will fight Voldemort, I think you have a right to know. If they will do their very best to make sure you fight him, you know that it will happen eventually. When it does happen, I think it is important for you to know this information. I can only hope that by telling you this I have helped."

Harry nodded "Yeah, I'm glad you told me. Thanks."

"Good." replied Nicolas, rising from his seat, and waving his wand, canceling the spells that he had cast on the room "I will take my leave now. It's been a pleasure talking to you, Harry, though I wish the circumstances had been less worrying. Goodbye."

"Wait!" called Harry "I have one last question."

Nicolas raised his eyebrow.

"How are you going to explain it to Dumbledore when you don't die?"

Nicolas's brows furrowed. "I do not see why that should be a problem. Albus Dumbledore may be healthy for his age, but I doubt he will live long enough to realize that Perenelle and I should have died by now."

"You said that you and Perenelle only had enough Elixir to last you for a short while." said Harry, feeling distressed "Do you expect Dumbledore to die really soon?"

The fake alchemist laughed as he regarded Harry. "A short while for me, Harry, and a short while for you are very different concepts, I think. I meant I would still have enough Elixir to last us for a decade or two, but for a young child like you, I suppose even a year would be considered quite a long time. Do not worry, I think my cover story remains safe. Goodnight." and he was gone.

"Goodnight!" Harry called after him, and then wearily headed off to bed after what felt like the longest day of his life.

* * *

End of the incredibly long chapter.

Please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is just as welcome as praise!


	2. A Beautiful and Terrible Thing

**Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls**

 **Part I: Nicolas**

 **Chapter Two: A Beautiful and Terrible Thing**

 **Year Two**

"Goodnight Harry!" exclaimed Ron with a huge smile on his face, still high on the euphoria of saving Ginny, seeing Hermione healed and the return of Hagrid from Azkaban. The celebration had lasted all night long, and seeing as it was approaching 5am, it was no surprise to Harry that Ron started snoring the second his head hit the pillow.

Though he yearned for his soft warm bed, Harry knew he couldn't yet go to sleep, and he reluctantly turned around and headed back out of the dorm rooms, taking a parchment and quill with him.

"Hello, Hedwig," he cooed at his owl, petting her gently and offering her a slice of bacon he had stowed in his pocket to apologize for waking her up so early "I'm really sorry, girl, but I need you to send a letter for me. It's very important, or I wouldn't have woken you up at this hour."

She hooted at him in a tone so understanding, that the thought once again occurred to Harry that maybe she could understand what he was saying.

Hedwig perched comfortably on his shoulder as he sat down at the little desk in the owlery, there for the convenience of the students, and began writing.

 _Nicolas,_

 _Hello, this is Harry Potter. I'm writing to you because of our conversation last year about the way Voldemort might have become immortal. I think I've found proof of your theory, but you know the subject better than I, so I thought I should ask you what you think._

Harry grimaced at the paragraph, but since Nicolas had stressed to him how important it was to keep information about Horcruxes a secret, Harry felt justified in being very vague with his descriptions. Nicolas would understand what Harry was referring to.

 _This year, a bit after school started, students started becoming petrified- they were found just frozen in place and unable to move. Also, someone had written on one of the corridors 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the Heir beware."_

 _During this time, I found a diary that someone tried to flush down the toilet, and I took it. Later, ink had spilled on all my schoolbooks, but there wasn't any on the diary which I thought was weird, so I decided to write on it._

At this point, Harry tried to write in as much detail possible. Not knowing which details would be important for Nicolas to know, Harry wrote everything about his encounter with the diary painstakingly- the color of the diary, the inscription on the front, the conversation with Tom Riddle, and the memory.

 _Just last night, my best friend Ron's sister disappeared because she was taken into the Chamber, and there was more writing on the wall saying her skeleton would rot in the chamber. That was just when I managed to figure out where the Chamber was (the girls' loo on the second floor!) and because I can speak Parseltongue I was able to go into the chamber._

Also here, Harry felt important to write every single detail that had happened, and reported everything. He spent special detail writing about how Tom looked, how he was sort of transparent, but looked like he was getting more solid every second. He even spared a paragraph to describe Tom's hair and the color of his eyes, just in case it was important. He wrote about what Tom had said, speculating about what he had meant when he called himself a "memory", and went on to describe the fight with the Basilisk and the destruction of the diary.

 _Anyways,_ he concluded, _since you're familiar with the kinds of artifacts we discussed back then, I thought I would ask you for your opinion- do you think this could be that sort of object?_

 _Regards,_

 _Harry_

He stared tiredly down at his scribbles, which he was surprised to see had taken up almost two whole rolls of parchment in his tiniest handwriting, and rolled them up carefully, wrote down the address Nicolas had given him a whole year ago on the back, and placed them in Hedwig's claws.

"Too heavy, girl?" he asked warily, having never given her a letter this long to carry before, but Hedwig hooted reassuringly and took off with no great difficulty.

Harry watched her soar into the early dawn until she was nothing more than a speck in the sky, before tiredly heading down to his welcoming bed.

* * *

 **Year Three**

It was summertime by the time Nicolas had replied to Harry's letter. Hedwig had returned a day after Harry had sent the letter with a quick note saying that Nicolas needed to think about the information Harry had given him, and would consult some books before giving Harry a concrete opinion.

So when an unfamiliar tawny brown owl landed in Harry's bedroom two nights before his birthday, Harry leapt up in nervous anticipation, almost tearing the letter in his haste to read it, and ignoring the affronted hoot of the carrier owl.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _First of all, I applaud the caution you have implemented when writing about Horcruxes. The chances of my mail being intercepted are miniscule, but one can never be too certain. This letter is spelled so that only you will be able to read it. For your convenience, I have enclosed a piece of parchment with instructions on performing the spell so that you will not have to resort to using vague hints next time you have something important to discuss._

 _As for the diary, it seems to me that it is indeed a Horcrux. I know of no other magical device which can display the kind of independence of thought you have described, nor have I ever known a simple magical object to possess someone. You were quite right in thinking that there was soul magic involved, and I think we can safely assume that your conclusions about the diary were correct. You were quite lucky in using the fang, as Basilisk venom is one of the few substances in the world that can destroy a Horcrux. Had you stabbed it with the sword instead, it would have been completely ineffectual._

 _What worries me is the fact that it seems that Lord Voldemort intended the diary to be used as a tool for reopening the Chamber of Secrets. Traditionally, Horcruxes are either kept very near to their creator, or hidden away under many protections- either way, kept safe in a place where the owner could be sure that it won't be easily destroyed. The fact that the diary was meant to fall into a stranger's hand, and not only that but be used in a way that would put it in constant proximity to Basilisk venom, a very vulnerable position indeed, seems to suggest that Tom Riddle wasn't particularly worried about his Horcrux being destroyed._

 _Now, this is just speculation, but if Voldemort wasn't all that worried about his tie to immortality being cut, the reason for that could be because he had more than one tie. It is rare, but not unheard of, for a person to create more than one Horcrux, and it would certainly explain much about the way Lord Voldemort has acted during the war- utterly insane and despicably cruel- even more than is par for a Horcrux creator. If he has indeed created more than one Horcrux, this obviously complicates your situation greatly, and I truly am sorry to burden you with this knowledge, but I think you have a right to know._

 _Also, your ability to speak Parseltongue interests me. I have some suspicions about it, but wouldn't want to burden you with them without being completely certain, so I will say no more on the subject for now. Could you please write to me with everything you know about your gift of Parseltongue? Thank you._

 _I wish you a pleasant summer, Harry, and good luck in all your endeavors._

 _Nicolas._

* * *

 **Year Four**

Harry felt his heart leap with hope as he saw the vaguely familiar owl circle above his head before landing on his bacon. This time he took care to pet the owl and offer it a piece of bacon before eagerly tearing the envelope, feeling, for the first time since Halloween, that maybe everything would be alright.

 _Harry,_

 _In answer to your question- yes, there are a few spells that can cause a dragon harm, but honestly- they are all extremely hard and complicated and can go wrong very fast. My advice to your is as follows- Don't focus on spells, as the chances of them helping you are miniscule. What most wizards forget, having come to rely too deeply on magic, is that while most magical spells don't affect dragons, most natural physical objects can do them harm. I'd try levitating a boulder and bringing it smashing on the dragon's head, that ought to knock it out. Alternately, if you are reluctant to do it harm, use the simple first-year incarcerating spell, and then quickly transfigure the ropes into metal, to prevent the dragon breaking them. Harder, but less violent._

 _I'm sorry to tell you that the Triwizard Tournament wasn't practiced when I attended Beauxbatons, and I have no real idea of how the Goblet of Fire works. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's theory seems like it may have some merit. I will try to assist by offering advice whenever I can._

 _Good luck!_

 _Nicolas._

Harry smiled as he folded the letter and put it into his backpack. Then he caught Ron's scowling eye, and his face fell again.

* * *

The next time Harry received a letter from Nicolas, he was lying on the grass outside the great lake, trying to enjoy the beautiful summer day and not quite succeeding. Voldemort's return was a heavy weight on his chest, and even the sight of the Flamel's familiar tawny owl couldn't quite cheer him up.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I wish I could be the bearer of good news for you, but unfortunately, the details you have given me on the ritual confirm the Horcrux theory. Voldemort's words about going further than anybody down the path that leads to immortality as well as the phrase "one or more of my experiments" does seem to suggest multiple Horcruxes. I wish it weren't so._

 _It seems that Lord Voldemort is indeed intent upon killing you, so it is becoming clear to me that you will once again be forced to fight him. Hopefully, when that time comes, he will be a mortal man. I don't know how, yet, but I am doing quite a bit of research, and will do everything in my power to try and help._

 _Write to me if there is anything at all you need. I will be there._

 _Nicolas._

Harry petted the Flamel owl slowly. He didn't know if he should be comforted that a man with literally centuries of magical experience and knowledge was on his side, or worried that even Nicolas seemed less than hopeful.

Taking a quill out of his bag, he chose an empty space at the end of the letter to write his reply.

After staring at the paper for a couple of minutes, he wrote the only thing he could think of-

 _Nicolas,_

 _Thank you!_

 _Harry._

He just hoped Nicolas would understand how much gratitude and emotion he had put into those two words, he thought wistfully as he watched the tawny owl become a brown speck in the sky.

* * *

 **Year Five**

Harry's hands were shaking as he locked himself in the bathroom of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, took a quill and a piece of parchment out of his pocket, and began writing, leaning over the cracked and dusty sink.

 _Nicolas,_

 _I had a vision last night. I was Voldemort's giant snake, and I attacked my friend Ron's father at the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. When I woke up, I was so sure the vision was real that I ran to tell Professor Dumbledore about it, and he checked and found Mr. Weasley dying from a snakebite in front of the Department of Mysteries. They brought him to St. Mungo's, and I just heard that he's going to be fine and live, but he almost died and would have if I hadn't known about the snake attacking him._

 _In my dream- I was the snake, and I wanted to bite Mr. Weasley and taste his blood, like I was feeling the snake's emotions. Later, when I was looking at Dumbledore I suddenly became overwhelmed by this sudden hatred for him, I wanted to rip him to shreds._

 _Also, this isn't the first time I've felt what Voldemort's been feeling and seen through his eyes. It's happened before. I should have told you sooner, but I wasn't sure the visions were actually real until now._

 _I don't know what to think, please answer me as quickly as you can!_

 _Harry_

He stuffed the letter back in his bag, and snuck into his and Ron's bedroom. Ron was already snoring, and Harry quickly turned to Hedwig's cage, which must have been brought over during the long night of waiting he had just endured, and quickly pulled Hedwig out.

"I need you to get this to Nicolas as fast as you possibly can, understand?" he whispered to her quietly, as to not wake Ron.

She hooted quietly and nibbled on a piece of his hair, which Harry took as an affirmative answer, before taking off and flying out of the window.

Harry was woken only a short hour later by a gentle tapping at the window. Getting out of bed slowly, Harry groaned and opened the window to the tawny owl flapping outside. He cast an envious look at Ron who was still obliviously snoring away, and read the scrap of parchment handed to him by the owl.

 _We must talk face to face. The parchment is a portkey, and will be activated by being tapped with your wand. Come as soon as you won't be missed. This is urgent!_

Harry looked at the sleeping Ron, considering. The rest of the family had also stayed up all night waiting for news on Mr. Weasley. They probably wouldn't be up for another couple of hours.

He pulled a robe over his head, and fastened it so it would not be evident that he was only wearing his pajama trousers underneath, and hesitantly tapped the parchment with his wand.

He felt his hand stick to the parchment, and a hooking feeling behind his navel, and the world was gone in a swirl of colour.

As the world rearranged itself around him once more, Harry looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was at an entrance hall, there was a big mahogany door behind him, and right near it hung a few pegs with coats on them. A great hall, painted light blue, was in front of him, with paintings lining either side, and to his left was a perch on which his own snowy owl was currently snoozing.

Footsteps were heard down the hall, and soon a brunette with short hair and features that had the same indistinct blurriness to them that Harry remembered from Nicolas came into view.

"You must be Harry!" she said, smiling pleasantly at him. "Nicolas talks of you rather fondly, and I read your letters, so I feel like I already know you a little." She took his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Harry smiled back politely. "I guess you're Perenelle?" he asked.

"Of course." was her simple answer "And Nicolas will be here momentarily."

Just as she said that, a dark figure emerged from a door down the hall, and Harry recognized Nicolas, despite having only seen him once over four years ago. It wasn't a meeting Harry could ever forget. He had grown a goatee since their last meeting, and Harry thought it suited him quite well.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, sounding quite affectionate, as if greeting an old friend. Harry smiled back. He had also felt that his relationship with Nicolas had become warmer over their correspondence, but Nicolas's familiarity still unsettled him. He had certainly not treated him like this during their first meeting, and Harry was feeling quite awkward as he watched Nicolas approach.

Suddenly, he stopped, scrutinized Harry, and frowned. "You look different than what I remember."

"It's been almost four years," replied Harry "I've had some growth-spurts since I was eleven."

"My god, has it really?" replied Nicolas, sounding shocked "Time really does fly by at a dizzying rate!" he looked Harry up and down "I have to say, Harry, puberty has done well by you. You were such a scrawny little thing the first time we met I was a bit worried for you. Good to see you like this."

Harry felt himself blush, and tried desperately to suppress it.

"So, why did you ask me to come here? You said it was urgent." he reminded the couple.

Perenelle turned away from him suddenly, and Nicolas's face fell. "I'd nearly forgotten. Come with me into the sitting room, this is not a conversation to be had out in the hall."

A feeling of foreboding growing in his stomach, Harry followed Nicolas and Perenelle down the long bright hall, to the left, and through a rather large oak wooden door to a brightly lit room with two couches between which sat a small table, and walls lined with bookshelves.

Perenelle cleared her throat awkwardly. "I should leave you two to it. I suppose you'd like your privacy for this conversation, Harry. It's been a pleasure to meet you and I just wish it was under more pleasant circumstances." She softly took Harry's hand in hers and squeezed it. "Good luck."

Harry was feeling positively sick with worry by now, wondering why he was being treated like a terminally ill patient.

He watched as Perenelle then turned to her husband and gave him a chaste kiss. "Come see me when you're done, darling."

Harry watched them carefully. When Perenelle had reached up to kiss Nicolas, he had been half afraid of witnessing an embarrassingly syrupy snog session, as was to be expected from a couple whose love was so deep it had kept them immortal for six centuries. There was no snogging. Instead, Perenelle took Nicolas's hands in hers and held them, staring into his eyes and smiling. A wide smile spread across Nicolas's face in response, and he looked almost unbearably blissful. Harry looked away, embarrassed.

When they parted from one another and Perenelle left the room, Nicolas gestured for Harry to sit down on one of the couches.

"Your letter to me suggests that you already suspect what I am about to tell you and simply do not want to acknowledge it until I have confirmed your suspicions."

Harry lowered his eyes.

"I started suspecting back when you wrote to me about finding the Chamber of Secrets. Parseltongue is a genetic ability to my knowledge, and your parents did not have the ability to your knowledge, the chances of one of them having the ability and keeping it a secret are miniscule, so we must operate under the assumption that it was a skill transferred to you from Voldemort. Now, we must speculate that there is some magical connection between you and Voldemort, though we aren't sure what the nature of it is yet.

"Our next clue is that you had the vision through the eyes of the snake. Since your connection is to Voldemort and not to the snake, this incident is quite curious. Perhaps Voldemort was possessing the snake? I am aware that according the him, Lord Voldemort has possessed small animals while he was in spirit form after his not-death, but as far as I am aware, that should be impossible now that he is once again in possession of his body. Once connected to a body, a soul can not simply enter another living being. The act currently associated with possession nowadays isn't really possession but simply a powerful legilimentic attack. An attack such as this is not possible to perform on an animal, due to the differences in their brains and thinking process. Therefore, we have established that Voldemort did not possess the snake.

"So we must once again return to the question- how were you able to see through the snake's eyes, when your connection is to Voldemort? I can think of only one answer: The Snake is a Horcrux. Are you with me so far?"

Harry nodded.

"Now, let us return to your connection with Lord Voldemort. At first glance, your connection seems to be a connection to his consciousness as suggested by your experiences of sensing his emotions and seeing things through his eyes. But Voldemort wasn't present when the snake attacked your friend's father. He might not even have been aware of it. So the connection isn't a connection of the mind, it is a connection of the soul. Surely you see where this is going?"

The thought had occurred to Harry before, but he had always dismissed it as impossible as he was doing now: "If Voldemort made me his Horcrux, why would he be trying to kill me?"

"I don't think you are a Horcrux, Harry." Harry sighed thankfully, and felt his nausea and dread retreat a bit, only to return full force with Nicolas's next words: "A Soulcrux is what we call it when two souls naturally transfer between two lovers, a Horcrux is what we call it when the separation of the soul from the body is achieved through artificial means- a ritual. What do you call it when a soul attaches itself to something outside the body accidentally? I don't know. I doubt there is a name for it, but nevertheless, that appears to be what has happened.

"It is quite apparent to me that Voldemort's soul was so mutilated that when it was disconnected from his body the night your parents died, it did not stay whole, but rather splintered. It attached itself to the nearest vessel it could find."

Harry had suspected it, it had been there nagging at the back of his mind dreadfully for a few months now, but to hear it confirmed and explained was a thousand times worse, a thousand times more sickening.

He felt his body tremble and his voice shook too when he asked "So part of Voldemort's soul is inside of me?"

"I am afraid so." answered Nicolas, and he looked so weighed down by grief, that for the first time since Harry had seen him, he looked his age.

Harry bent over and retched.

"Harry?" he heard Nicolas's worried voice above him, but all he could think of was that foul piece of soul, the soul that belonged to the person who had killed his parents, sitting in him like a dirty infection.

"GET IT OUT OF ME!" he screamed "GET IT OUT OF ME!" starting to sob, he begged "I can't stand to have it in me! Please!" he bent his head, covering his face in a futile attempt to hide his crying, though his shaking shoulders made it obvious.

Harry felt a soft hand on his head, trying to soothe him. Slowly his sobbing subsided, and he breathed in a shaky breath, grimacing at the taste in his mouth. He felt sick, like there was something big and black and disgusting resting inside of him, tainting him. He wanted it out.

"Can you help?" he finally asked Nicolas quietly, once he felt capable of speech again.

Nicolas sighed and waved his wand. The bad taste in Harry's mouth dissipated, and with another wave, the sick on the floor vanished.

"Sorry." said Harry, embarrassment making him forget his horror for the first time since the revelation.

"It's okay, Harry. Quite a reasonable reaction considering the news you have just received. Please do not feel embarrassed.

"You asked if I can help. I know two ways of removing a Horcrux from its vessel. One is destroying a vessel, and I think killing you would rather defeat the purpose of removing the Horcrux from you. The second way is that the person whose soul was torn will heal from the event that mutilated their soul in the first place. In Voldemort's case I think we can safely assume that the damage to his soul was the result of murder or torture, and therefore in order to reverse the process, Voldemort must feel remorse for his actions."

Harry snorted. "Fat chance getting that to happen. I'm doomed. I'll have to live with his foul soul inside of me until I finally die, by his own hands, probably."

"Don't think like that, Harry!" said Nicolas severely "You mustn't lose hope! And you mustn't think of Voldemort's soul as something vile and disgusting, either, it will only distress you. Remember that Voldemort's despicable actions are not a result of an evil and tainted soul, but rather of a soul that has been damaged and mutilated. Tom Riddle may have been a good and kind man had it not been for the creation of the Horcruxes. I have seen many good and kind men do despicable acts out of madness caused by a broken soul, at the very beginning when Horcruxes were common and their effects were just starting to become apparent.

"In addition, I think that you may be forgetting that the wizarding world destroyed all written accounts on the creation of Horcruxes. All books, letters, guides and journals. Obviously, it is impossible to ensure that not a single written account remains, and it is inevitable such an account will one day be discovered by the wrong person, but you must remember that Tom Riddle's knowledge of Horcruxes was not as extensive as yours is. It is quite likely that when Tom Riddle first created a Horcrux he had no idea what the effect of it would be. Maybe, had he known what it would cause, he never would have created one. It is quite possible that this is all a very tragic mistake that occurred to a good man who was simply scared of death."

"As comforting as that thought is," retorted Harry "It's just as possible that he knew exactly what creating a Horcrux did, and did it anyways because he was a monster even before mutilating his soul."

Nicolas shook his head "I don't think so, Harry. When the Killing Curse rebounded on Voldemort, and a piece of soul separated from Voldemort, that piece of soul could have attached itself to any object that was there in the room with you, you were the most vulnerable and least safe location for it to reside, and yet it chose to connect with you, despite the protection cast by your mother which could have harmed it greatly. It chose to connect to the one thing there that had feeling and knew love. In addition, the soul could have easily attempted to possess you and taken your body for it's own. A baby has no magic, and not enough feelings of identity to protect itself from this kind of invasion. Had the soul wanted to, it could have possessed you. But it didn't.

"I think this proves that the soul of Tom Riddle isn't inherently evil. In my opinion, you shouldn't view the soul in you as something filthy and parasitic, think of it as a part of Voldemort that still managed to stay good despite all the horrible things he has done to himself.

"The fact that there was still good in Voldemort's soul even after all this time bodes well for your chances of him reabsorbing the Horcrux through remorse, which is of course, the ideal outcome. It might never happen, but even if it doesn't, just remember that you aren't keeping an evil madman alive- that's what his other Horcruxes are doing, you're preserving the remaining good in him, which I imagine is a much more palatable way of thinking about it. Does that comfort you? At least a little?"

Harry did find Nicolas's words comforting. While he was panicking earlier, the only thought he had for the piece of Voldemort's soul in him was disgust. Now, strangely enough, he felt a tiny bit of fondness towards it- a part of Voldemort that had stayed good despite it all.

But Harry was not an overly sentimental person, and he also realized that while Nicolas had eased his distress over the piece of Voldemort's soul he carried, he still had not addressed the real problem.

"That's all good and well, but that still doesn't solve the problem of me not being able to kill Voldemort as long as I'm still alive." Harry replied.

Nicolas frowned "Why on earth would you be the one who needs to kill Voldemort? Harry, I think the amount of times you have confronted him, has given you an expectation that you should be the one to confront Voldemort and defeat him, but you are only a fifteen-year-old boy with-" he paused to calculate the amount of time "Five years of magical experience. Voldemort is a man so powerful even Albus Dumbledore did not manage to beat him in a duel with over fifty years of magical experience. You survived the first time because of your mother's love. The other two times you survived because of Voldemort's narcissistic tendency to boast when he has you at his mercy. The only reason you had to fight him in the first place is because your mother's sacrifice when you were a baby had caused him to develop an obsession with killing you.

"I don't expect you to kill Voldemort and neither should you. All I hope for is that next time you are faced with him you will manage to escape unscathed. If you ever confront Voldemort and feel that there is no hope of escaping, I strongly encourage you to tell him about his piece of soul in you- it will certainly cause him to hesitate before killing you, and will increase your chances of escaping or of being rescued. Stop the war from being between you and Voldemort, and leave dealing with him to people who are more qualified for the endeavor, okay?"

"I can't!" protested Harry "You don't understand, I can't leave it to anyone else, because no one else who can do it is willing to! I can't expect the aurors to do it, because they work for the ministry, which won't even admit that he's back! I can't leave it to Dumbledore, because Dumbledore wants me to be the one to defeat him, and we still don't even know why! If I don't do anything about Voldemort, no one else will either, and he'll just keep on killing muggles and mudbloods and anyone else who gets in his way!" by the time he finished talking, Harry's voice had risen to a shout, and Nicolas looked taken aback.

For some very long minutes, Nicolas sat in silence, simply staring at Harry and then down at the ground. Finally, he spoke.

"I've been a hypocrite, Harry."

"Why?" asked Harry, puzzled "What do you mean?"

Nicolas sighed. "Ever since I met you, and heard your stories about all those trials you were forced to endure every year, I always thought to myself how unfair it was. 'Why should Harry be the one to fight Voldemort every single time?' I thought 'he's only a child, why won't someone else stand up and take responsibility, try to fix what's wrong? Why must it fall on the shoulders of this young boy?'. I kept hoping that some adult who actually knew what they were doing would take charge, instead of leaving it to you, but this whole time it never even occurred to me to take on this responsibility myself.

"Well," he drew himself up "if I want to help you, to spare you the burden of having to face Voldemort on your own, then it's time for me to do something about it. I am qualified to fight Voldemort, I am capable of defeating him, I might not be as powerful as him, but I have hundreds of years of experience with magic on my side, and it's been quite a few centuries since I've been defeated in a duel. And even if he does best me in a duel, I'm the best person it could happen to because I will not die."

Harry gaped at him.

"I tend to be more of a scholar than a man of action," Nicolas continued "I find I like living my life quietly with my lovely wife, I am not the kind of person who takes initiative, that is probably why it didn't even occur to me to intervene up until now. But I promised to help you, Harry, and I can, and I will."

"Er… Thanks." said Harry awkwardly "It means a lot that you'd be willing to do that. But that still doesn't really solve the problem that you won't be able to kill Voldemort, he'll still be immortal."

"I don't plan on killing him." answered Nicolas easily "I will disable him and then turn him over to the Ministry to be sent to Azkaban. I am willing to wager that within a month he will be desperate enough for death that he will willingly reveal the location of all of his Horcruxes. You will live a normal and full life, and when you eventually die, hopefully many years from now, so will Voldemort."

"Sounds perfect." said Harry faintly. What he really meant to say was 'Sounds too good to be true.'

Nicolas shrugged "Many things could go wrong with the plan, but we shall deal with them as they come. For now, I trust I have eased your distress and helped take some weight off you shoulders?"

Harry nodded speechlessly.

"Perfect!" exclaimed Nicolas "In that case, allow me to invite you to forget about your troubles and join Perenelle and I for breakfast." he hesitated "Unless you will be missed and need to return soon."

Harry shook his head- after waiting all night for news of Mr. Weasley's condition, everyone was exhausted, and he wagered that they would sleep for hours yet. Even if someone did wake up, they would probably be too preoccupied with worry to notice that he was gone. And Harry felt too stricken by the revelations of the morning to go to sleep and pretend that nothing had changed.

"I'll join you, if that's okay."

Nicolas grinned. "Of course it's okay, Perenelle will be simply delighted. She read all the letters you sent me, and has become rather fond of you, though you haven't really met yet. Join us."

Harry ducked his head, grinning, and stood up to follow Nicolas out the door.


	3. Lies

**Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls**

 **Part I: Nicolas**

Chapter Three: Lies

Harry opened his eyes, gasping. His whole body was aching, and his scar felt as if it had been branded on with a hot iron. He could hear murmurs from all over the room, and when he sat up he saw people craning over their desks trying to get a good look at him.

Brushing off Professor Tofty's worried fussing, Harry pretended that he was going to head up to the hospital wing to get a headache potion and some rest. The second he was out of sight, he sprinted up towards Gryffindor common room. He arrived, gasping and panting for breath, and hurtled up towards his dormitory, sparing no thought to the first and second years, who had already finished their end-of-year exams, staring at him.

He bent over his trunk, and started rifling through it madly, searching for an ornate silver mirror. It had arrived along with the rest of his Christmas presents at Grimmauld Place, along with a note from Nicolas, explaining how to use it.

Harry's fingers fumbled as he finally managed to grab hold of the mirror, and lifted it to his eye level. "Nicolas Flamel." he intoned firmly, obeying the instructions in the note attached to the mirror.

The image of his face reflected in the mirror disappeared, and instead, Harry found himself staring at a white surface, with an unidentifiable brown smudge at the very edge of the mirror. An annoying ringing was piercing the air, getting louder and louder as the seconds wore on and Harry wondered what was going on.

Just as Harry was beginning to think he had somehow made a mistake, the sound of rushing footsteps emanated from the mirror, and a second later the mirror became a topsy-turvy blur of colors which then resolved itself into Nicolas's familiar face.

The ringing had stopped as soon as the surface of the mirror had morphed once again, and Harry assumed its purpose had been to alert Nicolas to the fact that he was being contacted by Harry, rather like the ring of a telephone.

"Harry!" Nicolas smiled widely when he saw Harry. Then, taking a closer look, he frowned. "You don't look so good. What can I do for you?"

"I just had another vision." explained Harry quickly "Voldemort has my godfather Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, and he was torturing him!"

"The Department of Mysteries?" Nicolas looked extremely puzzled "Where all the highly-trained Unspeakables could happen upon him at any moment? How strange."

"I've been dreaming about it all year." replied Harry "I think there's something in there that Voldemort wants, a weapon or something. Dumbledore has a secret order that fights Voldemort, and I know that there have been members of the Order standing guard at the entrance to the Department all year. That's where Mr. Weasley was when I saw the snake attack him."

"Interesting." said Nicolas "I have no knowledge of what is in the Department of Mysteries, but it stands to reason that it would contain some very powerful weapons. I assume your godfather is a member of this secret order?"

Harry nodded.

"Then I suggest you try to contact a member of this group and inform them of the situation. Meanwhile, I shall go to the Ministry of Magic myself to assess the situation. I shall keep the mirror on me, so that we may inform each other of our progress. Good luck."

"And you." replied Harry. "Thank you, Nicolas."

Harry sprinted out of the hospital wing, and towards an empty classroom a few feet away. He had no one but Nicolas to turn to. Professor Dumbledore wasn't there, Hagrid was gone, and he had just found out that Professor McGonagall wasn't there either- the severity of her injuries necessitated her transfer to St. Mungo's.

"Nicolas Flamel." he muttered at the mirror, and was greeted with the sight of black cloth, which was immediately replaced with the sight of Nicolas's drawn face.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, "I didn't expect you to contact me so soon! Have you not managed to find anyone else to help?"

"No." said Harry shortly "They'll all gone. Where are you?"

"I've just apparated into the Ministry atrium. Not even the security guard is present. Something is definitely amiss. I understand the Department of Mysteries is somewhere here?"

Harry nodded "On the ninth floor. Nicolas, can I come with you?"

Nicolas frowned. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"I'm not going to be of any use here." replied Harry "I can't stand just staying here and doing nothing while Sirius is being tortured, let me come and help."

Nicolas frowned. "The whole point of my coming here was to prevent you from encountering yet another situation where you would be forced to fight Voldemort."

"But he's my godfather!" insisted Harry "And it's my fault he's being tortured in the first place. Anyways, you need me. You don't know where Sirius is being kept, I'll need to be there to show you. I promise I won't get involved unless it's necessary! Please, I need to be there."

"If I brought you with me," replied Nicolas "I would have to apparate away from here to the gates of Hogwarts, wait for you to walk there, since it's impossible to apparate from inside Hogwarts, and then side-along apparate you back."

"It would only take a few minutes!"

"Minutes during which your godfather is being tortured." replied Nicolas, shutting Harry up.

"Alright. Just keep the mirror on so I can direct you towards the right room."

"Of course, Harry. And I apologize. I understand that this is difficult for you."

Harry shook his head, though Nicolas was no longer looking at him, but rather heading towards the lifts with the mirror held in front of him, showing Harry where he was going. "No, you were right. I want to help Sirius as soon as possible. It's just hard, staying here doing nothing while you endanger your life for me."

Nicolas chuckled. "Don't apologize, Harry. This is more excitement than I've had in quite a few decades. And I'm not risking my life; I'm risking a slight inconvenience that can be resolved in a couple of hours. Perenelle keeps all the ingredients necessary for the ritual that would return me to my body should I die prepared at all times. Please stop worrying. All will be well."

Harry said nothing. He knew in his mind that what Nicolas was saying made sense, but he had never before had to sit aside and watch while someone else risked themselves. It was incredibly hard. He felt a sudden kinship with Sirius, understanding, for the first time, just how difficult it must have been to stay at home while the other members of the Order of the Phoenix fought.

Both Harry and Nicolas remained silent until they reached the Department of Mysteries, the only sound being the rattling of the lift and then Nicolas's footsteps on the polished marble floor.

Nicolas entered through the familiar black door that Harry had seen so many times in his dreams though only once in reality, and entered the circular room with doors all along the walls.

"In my dreams, I walked straight ahead to the door, so it should be one of those two doors right in front of you."

"Alright." he heard Nicolas whisper "Now keep your voice down. I don't want to alert anyone to my presence before I must. In fact, wait a moment while I Disillusion myself."

Harry heard the slight swish of a wand, and then footsteps as Nicolas advanced down the circular room and towards the door in front of him. A few feet in, though, the door through which he had entered slammed shut, and a great rumbling noise made Harry jump as the circular wall began rotating.

Harry groaned softly, realizing it must be a tactic to confuse intruders and people who shouldn't be there.

"Don't despair, Harry. There are only about a dozen doors here, we'll go through them quickly. Can you recognize the right room on sight?"

Harry nodded. "There are patches of light dancing all around the room, and the second you open the door you can hear a loud mechanical ticking like dozens of clocks."

Harry watched as the mirror advanced towards one of the doors and opened it. Out of the corner of the mirror he could see many colourful balls bouncing around inside a big glass tank. Next to it, just in Harry's view, there was a long roll of parchment and a disembodied quill that was frantically scribbling strange symbols on the parchment as the balls bounced around.

"Wrong room," whispered Nicolas "but Merlin, how I'd love to explore this place properly if I had more time." He sounded awed, and Harry wondered if he knew what the strange symbols being scribbled meant.

He left the room, but conjured up a chair that propped the door open, explaining to Harry in a whisper that a door closing seemed to be what triggered the spinning of the room.

The next door was locked, and after shooting a few spells at it, Nicolas marked it with a big X using his wand, saying they would return to the room if none of the others were the right ones.

He also mused for a second over the fact that the Department of Mysteries could use such advanced locking spells, and yet left their front door open. Harry agreed that it was suspicious, but reminded Nicolas that they were in a hurry.

The next door turned out to be the entrance through which they had arrived, but Nicolas, realizing the right door was probably the one on the exact opposite of the entrance, found the right door on his next try.

"Time turners." whispered Nicolas to Harry, explaining the ticking noise "And some other objects that look quite fascinating as well. Circe, I hope I manage to explore this room after this is all over."

"Just keep walking down the room," muttered Harry nervously "until you reach the door on the other side. There'll be many rows of shelves in the next room with silvery orbs on them. The rows are numbered, and Sirius will be in row ninety-seven."

"Very well." said Nicolas "Voldemort is in the next room, say no more from here on out. I will disillusion the mirror, and carry it in front of me like I am now so you can see it all, but do not reveal our presence."

"Got it." said Harry seriously, and he fell silent as Nicolas silently advanced down the rows of dark shelves. Harry waited tensely, expecting to hear the sound of tortured screams at any minute, but all was silent.

About halfway to their destination, at row seventy six to be exact, the sounds of murmuring caused Nicolas to halt in place. Harry held his breath, and listened with all his might, but the sounds did not repeat themselves. Nicolas began creeping forward again, pausing every few seconds to listen again, and when they were on row ninety-two, five rows from their final destination, the murmuring could be heard again, louder this time.

Advancing ever so slowly, Nicolas crept even closer, until, two rows away, a cackle made Harry jump. He could tell Nicolas had started with surprise too, because the view in his mirror suddenly jerked violently. A few seconds later, Harry could make out a vaguely familiar voice:

"Silence, Bellatrix! You are jeopardizing our entire mission! What if Potter were to hear you?"

"Little Harry Potter won't be coming for a while, Lucius. Or were you not listening to the Dark Lord? The whole reason this night was chosen to set the trap was that there were no members of the Order of the Phoenix at Hogwarts! Without an adult, it will be at least an hour before Ickle Potty shows up; he's too young to apparate or to know how to make a portkey. We have time to plan exactly what we can do with him once we have received the prophecy."

"We do not do anything with Potter after we retrieve the prophecy." answered the voice that Harry now realized belonged to Lucius Malfoy "We are to stun him, and call the Dark Lord."

At the sound of her growl, he tutted reprovingly. "The Dark Lord would be most displeased to learn of your insubordination. And I can't even imagine how angry he'd be if he realize you endangered the entire mission by talking just because you had wrongly assessed Potter's skills. Now be silent."

A snarl could be heard, but the woman, who could only be Bellatrix Lestrange, remained silent.

The view in the mirror flipped, and Harry realized that Nicolas was rushing away from the group quickly and quietly.

It wasn't until Nicolas was back at the deserted Ministry atrium that Harry dared to speak again. "It was a trap!"

The mirror flipped to reveal Nicolas's face, now visible once more. He nodded. "That was always an option, though quite an unlikely one. I couldn't think of a reason Voldemort would want you to be there as he stole whatever it was he was trying to get at, but it seems that your presence is important to the success of their plan. What do you know about the prophecy they were speaking of?"

"Not a single thing." said Harry, baffled "Do you think that's the secret weapon in the Department of Mysteries that Voldemort wanted? I thought it would be more-"

"-threatening?" finished Nicolas "Perhaps not. The thing is, they needed to lure you to the Department of Mysteries in order to reach it. Maybe they aren't aware that you have no information on the prophecy?"

"It's possible." replied Harry "So what do we do now?"

"Well," said Nicolas slowly "your godfather definitely wasn't there, so we don't really need to do anything. After all, the whole reason for this expedition was to save him. On the other hand, this is a marvelous chance to discover something about Voldemort's plans, as well as lure him out into the open. What do you think?"

"We should find out what he's up to." said Harry immediately.

Nicolas smiled. "I had a feeling you would say that. Very well, Voldemort will meet you tonight after all, or at least, he think he will. I will disguise myself as you using an ingenious potion called the Polyjuice Potion, which will-"

"I know what it does." interrupted Harry "Ron, Hermione and I took it once in second year so we could sneak into the Slytherin common room."

Nicolas looked impressed. "How mischievous of you. You must tell me this story at some time. How did you get your hands on Polyjuice Potion?"

"Hermione made it using potion ingredients she stole from the teacher's storage cupboard. How will you get the potion? It takes months to make."

Nicolas was now smiling widely. "Now I simply must hear the whole story. I happen to have some of the potion at home."

"How lucky." said Harry, frowning "I thought it was a really rare potion."

"It is." replied Nicolas "but we happen to have some nevertheless. Perenelle is quite talented at potions, and we've found that it's a convenient potion to have on hand."

Seeing an opening to make his argument, Harry pounced "If you're going to be disguised as me, you'll have to get some of my hairs, and if you're already going to meet up with me, bring me along with you. I'll stay under my invisibility cloak and not say a word, but I just can't bear to stay here and not know what's going on."

"Alright." said Nicolas easily "Meet me at Hogwarts' front gate."

Harry face broke out in a grin before he let go of the mirror and sprinted up to his dormitory to get his invisibility cloak.

He wrapped it tightly around himself so that no one would see him leaving the school or try to stop him, and sprinted out of his dormitory. When he reached the common room, he was greeted with the sight of Ron and Hermione, both looking quite worried and tense, heading up to the boy's dormitories.

They must be searching for him, Harry realized, and felt a pang of guilt. They had probably seen his collapse in the great hall and correctly deduced the cause. They must be quite worried about him, and here he was, running off without letting them know, and leaving them in the dark, worried and uncertain.

He grabbed a spare bit of parchment lying on one of the tables, and using his wand instead of ink, he painstakingly wrote them a note, frowning in concentration. The spell was quite difficult, and Harry understood why most wizards preferred to buy ink.

 _Ron and Hermione,_

 _I had a vision of Voldemort torturing Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. I've gone to help. Don't worry; I'm being helped by a trustworthy adult._

 _Harry_

He frowned as he looked at the letter. He could just lie, and say he had a bad dream, but they would never believe him, and it would probably just make them worry more. No, better tell the truth, even if it was vague. The note hardly supplied any information, and probably wouldn't do much to alleviate their worries, but he had to at least try.

Harry had never told Ron and Hermione about his correspondence with Nicolas. It was probably the only secret he had ever kept from them. The spell Nicolas had cast, the very first time he and Harry met, ensured that Harry could never discuss the soul magic he had learned of with them. In any case, his correspondence with Nicolas had felt secret and quite private. He had wanted to keep it to himself.

As a result, they knew nothing about Harry's connection to Nicolas Flamel, and he had no time to explain it to them in a short note. He hoped that his letter, mentioning a trustworthy adult, would at least alleviate some of their fears.

He tapped the note and muttered an incantation, and it folded itself and zoomed up the stairs to the boy's dormitories after Ron and Hermione.

Sighing, Harry rose, and silently made his way out of the common room, through the bustling castle, and up the road to Hogsmeade.

He arrived, panting from the exertion, having run the whole way to the gates, and looked around for Nicolas. Seeing no one, he wondered if perhaps Nicolas had made himself invisible again.

"Nicolas?" he called out.

A voice from right behind him caused him to jump. "Harry? Is that you?"

"Yes." said Harry gratefully, taking off the cloak.

"My god, what an extraordinary cloak!" exclaimed Nicolas's disembodied voice "They usually always have a little shimmer to them that gives them away, but this one is completely invisible! Where did you get it?"

"I got it from my father." explained Harry.

"Really? That makes it even more remarkable! Most cloaks have an unfortunate tendency to loose their powers with age, but this one must be over fifteen years old at least, I wonder if it is somehow made differently from most cloaks?"

"Perhaps it is one of the hallows." suggested a quiet voice to Harry's right, making him jump.

"I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean to startle you, it's me, Perenelle. I thought I'd come along to watch the show. This is much more exciting than anything going on at home."

Harry smiled in the direction of her voice, but the truth was that he felt slightly reluctant. He liked Perenelle a lot, but he did not feel as close to her as he did to Nicolas, and he had thought it would just be the two of them. On the other hand, he could definitely understand her desire to come along and see what was happening rather than stay at home. He certainly would, in her place.

"What's a hallow?" he asked instead.

"One magical object out of three: A wand, a cloak, and a stone that brings back the dead. The cloak is supposed to have abilities that surpass any other invisibility cloak ever made. There was an article about them in the Quibbler a few months back."

"Poppycock!" exclaimed Nicolas "The Quibbler is a magazine for conspiracy theorists and loonys!"

"I know what it's like." agreed Harry "The editor is the father of one of my friends."

"And what an interesting friend he or she must be." mused Perenelle "Even if not a single story in the Quibbler is true, it still makes for one of the most interesting and exciting reads."

Nicolas snorted and mumbled something about agreeing to disagree, before grabbing hold of Harry's arm. "Now, Harry, I'm going to apparate you to the ministry. I warn you, it will be quite unpleasant. Hold on tight."

Nicolas's arm twisted in his, and Harry felt like he was being shoved into a space way too small for him. He was being pressed from all directions, and he felt as if the pressure might soon break his skull. When the feeling abated, and he opened his eyes to find himself in front of the familiar water fountain that graced the Ministry's atrium.

He gasped for breath, and wiped his watery eyes. "Unpleasant doesn't cover it!" he said accusingly, once he regained his ability to speak.

"Stop whining." said Nicolas easily "it was the fastest method available to us. Come on."

Harry stifled a groan, and donned his invisibility cloak, heading towards the lifts and following the sounds of echoing footsteps and rustling cloaks.

As the lift slid open and Harry stepped inside, he felt someone brush past him, and heard Nicolas's voice to his right. "Is everyone in the lift?"

"I'm here." said Harry.

"So am I." said Perenelle from behind them both.

The ninth floor button lit up as the doors to the lift slid closed and they began descending.

The lift clattered to a stop after a short journey down, and as they exited the lift and approached the Department of Mysteries, Nicolas stopped them saying it was time to disguise himself as Harry.

A second later, the fake alchemist became visible again, and pulled a vial out of his pocket. Harry tried not to wince as Nicolas pulled a few hairs off his head, and then observed with interest as he added the hairs to the vial, and the potion turned a clear, bright gold.

Nicolas looked at the potion thoughtfully. "You know, some people say the colour the Polyjuice Potion turns reflects the soul of the person it will turn you into. It was never proven, of course, but my previous experience with Polyjuice supports that theory. You truly are quite extraordinary, Harry."

Harry pulled the invisibility cloak back over his face so that no one could see his blush as he thanked Nicolas, whose face was bubbling rather disturbingly.

A few seconds later, Harry was looking at a carbon copy of himself, and he frowned as he saw that Nicolas's cloak was now quite a bit too big for him, and that the hem was dragging across the floor. Nicolas wasn't particularly tall, but even he was taller than Harry.

Continuing through the black door that Harry had dreamt about for the past year which remained unlocked as it had been before, Nicolas instructed Perenelle to hold the entrance door open, so that they would be able to find the right door immediately.

Striding to the door exactly opposite them, the Harry-shaped Nicolas pulled it open and Harry followed after him, feeling the brush of fabric against his side that indicated that Perenelle too had entered the room.

Harry did his best to remain quiet, but Nicolas had no such qualms. On the contrary, he seemed to step in a way that would cause the most noise possible, thus alerting the Death Eaters to his presence.

He opened the door with flourish, and muttered quite loudly as he walked. "Row fifty-three, and that direction's fifty-two, so ninety-seven should be that way. Ninety-seven, ninety-seven. Don't worry, Sirius, I'm coming to save you!"

"Does he have to make me sound like an idiot?" muttered Harry to Perenelle, who he could hear walking beside him.

"Oh, I imagine it's quite fun to be able to do whatever you want without anyone thinking the worse of you for it. Very freeing."

"I think the worse of him for it!" muttered Harry angrily "He's making me look retarded!"

"Relax." she whispered "Is it really that bad if Voldemort's servants underestimate you?"

"I guess not." he sighed, but he couldn't help the scowl that formed on his face as Nicolas reached the ninety-seventh row and made a big show of starting in surprise when he found it empty.

"There's no one here!" exclaimed Nicolas quite loudly ""But wait! The shelf here has my name on it!" at that point he was probably speaking aloud for Harry and Perenelle's benefit, as they had stayed one row behind him, not wanting to get in the way of any fight that would commence when the Death Eaters arrived.

"S.P.T." read Nicolas aloud "to A.P.W.B.D. Dark Lord and-question mark- Harry Potter."

"That must be the prophecy." whispered Perenelle to Harry.

A prophecy about Voldemort and him? Was that what Voldemort wanted?

He saw Nicolas stare at the prophecy thoughtfully for a moment, before reaching up with his hand and taking the dusty little glass ball above the label.

Harry held his breath. He had dreamt of this place all year, with indescribable longing. Every night he had yearned to go further and further until he reached the unknown goal in the heart of the Department of Mysteries. Now, he knew what that goal was- it was to finally get his hands on that little glowing sphere. He waited with bated breath to see what would happen, but nothing did. The ball continued to glow dully in a rather boring matter.

The taking of the prophecy seemed to have been a signal to the waiting Death Eaters, however, because a second later a group of them blinked into view, just behind Nicolas. And when their leader spoke, Harry easily recognized his drawl.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Nicolas turned around, and made a nice show of looking horrified and surprised.

"Give me the prophecy, Potter." repeated Lucius Malfoy.

"Let Sirius go, and I'll give you the prophecy." replied Nicolas.

A wave of laughter ran through the group of Death Eaters. When Malfoy spoke again there was amusement in his voice. "Your Godfather is not here, Potter, and you must learn to distinguish between life and dreams. Now give me the prophecy, or I will have to use force."

"Prophecy?" said Nicolas nonchalantly "Sounds pretty interesting. I think I'll keep it to myself. Now that I know Sirius isn't here I have no reason to give it to you. Sorry."

"Don't be a fool, Potter." said Lucius Malfoy "You are outnumbered ten to one; you have no hope against us. Give us the prophecy and we will allow you to leave peacefully. Resist us, and you will not live to see tomorrow."

"How about we put that to the test?" asked Nicolas arrogantly. Harry supposed he had reason to be, despite his age he was at the height of health, and he had six centuries' experience to back him up.

The cackling woman, who Harry thought was Bellatrix Lestrange, spoke up. "Hah! Does arrogant baby Potter thinks he can fight the big bad Death Eaters?" her voice was tauntingly babyish "Or is he just faking because he knows he has no chance of escape? Are you scared, baby Potter? Do you want your Mommy?"

"I'm fine, thanks." replied Nicolas coolly "So… I guess that fact that you haven't attacked me yet means that you're too scared to fight little old me. Goodbye!"

He turned as if to leave, and ducked as a red light from Bellatrix Lestrange streaked past him.

"Bellatrix, no!" said Lucius angrily "If you smash the prophecy-"

"Oh, so that's why you won't attack me." said Nicolas "You want to attack me, but if you do you might smash the… prophecy. Oh dear, what a conundrum."

Malfoy sneered. "Don't think you're so clever, Potter, I can easily obtain the prophecy from you without damaging it, and once I do you will be in a world of pain. Accio prophecy!"

The orb remained in Nicolas's hand. "Considering you waited for me to come and take down the prophecy for you, I highly doubt it can simply be summoned." commented Nicolas casually "Nice try though. Send my love to your boss."

"Not so fast, itty bitty Potter!" cried Bellatrix "Surround him!"

Seconds later, the group of Death Eaters had formed a ring around Nicolas, preventing him from escaping, though they were all quite careful not to touch of jostle him in any way that might cause him to drop the prophecy.

"You can't escape, Potter." taunted Bellatrix.

"Very well." said Nicolas. He actually looked quite pleased with where the confrontation was heading. He caressed the glowing sphere in his hand slowly as he spoke. "It's quite interesting that though you have me surrounded, you are the ones who are at my mercy. You see, I don't particularly care what happens to the prophecy. I don't care if it breaks or not. You, on the other hand, are quite desperate for it to remain whole. I can't imagine that your master will be very pleased with you if you fail to keep it safe. So here's what's going to happen: I will give you instructions. You will follow them. If you don't follow them, I will break this prophecy. Understood?"

"How dare you!" shrieked Bellatrix "You filthy little half-blood! I will rip your face apart! I will curse you until you are nothing but a disfigured piece of flesh! I'll torture you until you beg for death!"

Harry heard Perenelle growl slightly beside him, but Nicolas remained calm. He pointed his wand at the glass sphere, and then raised his eyebrow at Malfoy meaningfully.

"Silence, Bellatrix!" commanded Lucius. He turned to Nicolas. "What do you want, Potter?"

"The prophecy." replied Nicolas "I want to know what it is and why you want it."

Malfoy sounded gleefully stunned when he next spoke. "Surely this can't be! Dumbledore never told you?"

"Told me what?"

The group of Death Eaters began laughing raucously. "Did you never wonder, Potter, why the Dark Lord came after you and tried to kill you fifteen years ago?" asked Lucius sounding partially taunting and partially genuinely curious.

"I've often wondered. Are you telling me it has something to do with this prophecy?"

"A prophecy about the Dark Lord and a boy born at the end of July. The full prophecy was never known to our Lord." replied Lucius softly.

Harry eyed it intently, holding his breath. He knew, of course, that Nicolas was doing the wise thing. The prophecy was the only leverage he had over the Death Eaters, and he was gaining valuable information through it. The threat of smashing the prophecy proved to be quite effective, but Harry wished with all his might that Nicolas wouldn't have to resort to that option. Ever since he had first found out that Voldemort had targeted him specifically, Harry had wondered why, and here, suddenly, was a chance to learn. He feared that if it looked as if Nicolas were preparing to make good on his threat to break it, he would barge in to save it, despite the consequences. He gritted his teeth and continued to listen to the conversation between Nicolas and Lucius Malfoy.

"This explains much. The Dark Lord had wondered why you hadn't come searching for it once he showed you its location in your dreams. He thought you would be just as eager to hear the exact wording as he was."

"And why did you need me to come and get it for you?"

"The only ones capable of retrieving a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries are the ones of whom the prophecy spoke. When he tried to have others retrieve it for him… it didn't end well." there was malicious glee in his voice as he spoke the last sentence, and suddenly, Harry remembered with a shudder how Broderick Bode had lain in the bed next to Neville's parents, believing he was a teapot.

He had worked in the Department of Mysteries, and had been asphyxiated by a cutting of Devil's Snare once his speech had begun to improve. And he had been hospitalized in the first place due to a 'workplace accident'. Harry felt his hatred for Lucius Malfoy pulse in his chest as the realization of what had happened dawned on him.

It suddenly occurred to him that whatever the enchantment was that prevented those to whom the prophecy didn't refer from retrieving it, it was fooled by Polyjuice potion. If it hadn't been, and Nicolas would have tried to take it- the thought was incredibly painful. Why had Harry let Nicolas convince him to involve him in his own messes? Harry should be out there confronting the Death Eaters now, not Nicolas!

Harry hadn't even realized he had risen, wand out, invisibility cloak half off, until he felt Perenelle's calming touch against his hand. He gathered himself, and slipped back under the cloak before any of the Death Eaters could see him.

"So why didn't he come get it himself?" asked Nicolas, still tracing the glass orb gently with his wand, causing the Death Eater behind him to flinch every time he opened his mouth.

"How dare you?" shrieked Bellatrix for the second time that night "How dare you presume that the Dark Lord would lower himself-" she seemed too overcome by emotion to finish the sentence.

"What Bellatrix means to say," interrupted Lucius "is that the Dark Lord has no desire to endanger or expose himself when he can simply send you to do his bidding for him."

"Well, that's a shame," replied Nicolas "because if that's the case all his work was for nothing. I want you to summon him here."

"You dirty impudent little mudblood!" shrieked Bellatrix "The Dark Lord cannot be summoned like a dog! How dare you suggest such a thing?! I should torture you for your impudence until you beg for death!"

"Nevertheless," replied Nicolas calmly "you will call for him to come, and he will obey, unless you want me to smash this prophecy to bits. The choice is yours."

This seemed to be too much for Bellatrix. A second later, Harry heard a bellowed "Crucio!" in her horse voice, and Nicolas easily dodged the ray of red light aimed at his chest.

The spell hit a prophecy in back of him that shattered, and a smoky white figure of a woman emerged from the broken fragments and began to speak.

"At the end of this year, at the darkest hour of night, the one who is royal by name will emerge. In a desperate attempt to protect his love, he will…"

Another prophecy, and this one would never be heard again. Harry became suddenly aware of the thousands upon thousands of prophecies all around him, and wondered vaguely if they all came true.

A second beam of red light flashed, and this time, it was not aimed at Nicolas. Bellatrix slumped to the ground unconscious.

The Death Eater beside Bellatrix turned towards Lucius and pointed his wand at him.

"Put your wand down, Rodolphus." instructed Malfoy "She was endangering the prophecy, and would have brought the Dark Lord's wrath down upon us all."

The Death Eaters around him shifted and muttered, it seemed they weren't too keen on the idea of summoning the Dark Lord on Harry Potter's instructions either.

"We will not endanger our mission by allowing the prophecy to be smashed." said Malfoy firmly "The Dark Lord will come, retrieve the prophecy and punish Potter."

He turned to sneer at Nicolas. "You think you're so clever, Potter, but you have challenged a wizard many times greater than you and superior to you in every way. You would have done better to leave him out of this and give us the prophecy. If he is summoned it will be too late for you."

Nicolas yawned.

"Very well." sneered Lucius "You have sealed your own fate."

He pulled down the sleeve of his robe, revealing his dark tattoo. Slowly, he lowered his thin forefinger, and pressed it to the brand on his arm.

Harry felt his forehead explode with pain, and had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming with agony. Euphoria filled him, even as he felt his mouth fill with blood. He was elated beyond measure, though he knew the glee he was feeling was not his own.

He thinks they have it. Realized Harry. He thinks they have the prophecy and are about to give it to him. He's coming.

Tears filled his eyes, and Harry couldn't tell if they were caused by the pain in his forehead or the utter happiness he was feeling.

Suddenly, the joy vanished and all Harry was left with was the pain. A second later a wave of fury overwhelmed him. Overcome by the desire, to kill, to tear, to mutilate, Harry clenched his fists resisting the urge to charge at the first Death Eater he saw and make him scream with pain.

Slowly, Perenelle's hand on his arm, rubbing it soothingly, managed to ground Harry, and through the haze of pain he became aware once more of what was going on.

A tall, thin and dark figure was standing just in front of Nicolas and the circle of Death Eaters surrounding him, and Harry had no trouble in recognizing Lord Voldemort.

A Death Eater had thrown himself at Voldemort's feet and was sobbing and muttering apologies while kissing the hem of his robes. The other Death Eaters were cowering on the floor in front of him.

"You have failed me." spoke the cruel voice that Harry heard so often in his nightmares "Cease your disgusting sniveling, Lucius. Do you think I have entered the ministry of magic to hear your pathetic excuses and apologies?"

He turned to the rest of the Death Eaters. "Leave! All of you! I want to be alone with Potter. I shall deal with you later."

There was an influx of noise as every Death Eater hurried to leave the place as soon as possible, and then several pops as the portkeys they all appeared to have had in their possession transported them away one by one.

Voldemort remained, staring at Nicolas impassively. In the sudden silence, his and Perenelle's breathing sounded incredibly loud to Harry's ears. He struggled to ignore the pain and concentrate on what was happening in front of him.

Voldemort's fury appeared to have vanished, and he suddenly seemed eerily calm.

"I have interest in hearing the prophecy, Potter." he spoke evenly "But if I end up killing you anything the prophecy says will be moot. Don't think that fear of breaking the prophecy will keep me from harming you. In fact, the only thing that could save you right now is if you gave me the prophecy."

"I have no way of knowing that the second you give me the prophecy you won't apparate away with it, and I happen to want to hear what it says too." replied Nicolas "If you tell me how to activate it, I'll do it here and we can both listen to it."

Voldemort frowned. "I can cast the spell that will activate the prophecy from here. I'll activate it and we can both listen to it."

"And risk you simply sending a killing curse at me instead?"

"If you don't allow me to do this, I will send a killing curse at you in any case, Potter, so you might as well take the option that might allow you a chance to live."

"Fair enough." shrugged Nicolas "Come and cast the spell."

Voldemort advanced slowly, wand raised, until he was standing right in front of the disguised Nicolas and had a straight shot at the prophecy. He looked like he was about to cast the spell, but he suddenly paused, tilting his head to the side curiously.

"You are not Potter."

Nicolas looked surprised. "What makes you say that?"

Voldemort lowered his wand, and Harry was surprised to see a look of utter bemusement on his face. "I don't know. But you aren't him."

"Well, you're right." announced Nicolas "I'm Titus Travers, assassin for hire. I'm working on Harry Potter's behalf. Now, what do you say we both hear the prophecy before we begin our duel to the death?"

"An assassin? That's actually quite clever. The boy appears to have at least some common sense." Voldemort spoke softly. "It is you who are a fool, though, for accepting a contract with him. You mentioned a duel to the death? Do you think that you can kill me, Titus Travers?" he sounded amused.

"Certainly not." replied Nicolas "You are obviously immortal, or at least capable of returning from the dead. There would be no point in killing you. I will defeat you and lock you in Azkaban."

Voldemort's face twisted into a snarl.

"I have to admit," Nicolas continued, "that though I'm not an especially compassionate man, even I don't like the thought of throwing someone to the dementors who will have to suffer them for the rest of eternity, so I'm willing to offer you a deal. If you'll make an unbreakable vow to never again hurt a muggle or muggle-born and give up your quest for world domination, I will be willing to let you go free with the understanding that you will no longer pose a danger to another living being."

"Such… arrogance." sneered Voldemort "I will be happy to provide you with a lesson in humility, Titus, but before I torture you until you lose your mind, I would like to hear the prophecy."

With that, he raised his wand, and shot a silvery looking spell at the glass sphere. The second the spell hit the prophecy, the jet of light transformed into a mist, which shaped itself into a familiar figure. Harry had to fight a gasp of surprise as he recognized the face of his ex-Divination professor- Professor Trelawney.

Professor Trelawney's eyes were vacant, and she spoke in a loud harsh voice that Harry had only heard once before.

 _"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."_

Harry sat frozen, trying to understand the repercussions of the prophecy. He should have known it was too good to be true… The thought that maybe he could let go of the responsibility of killing Voldemort, that he could let a more experienced and competent adult take charge had been a nice dream, but he should have known it would never last.

Either must die at the hand of the other. Nicolas couldn't help him with this. He would kill Voldemort, or Voldemort would kill him. It was as simple as that.

Feeling oddly calm, Harry rose and discarded his invisibility cloak. This was not Nicolas's battle to fight. He was a fool to think it was, to remove the responsibility from himself. It was time to get up, and face Voldemort like a man.

"Harry, no!" whispered Perenelle as loudly as she dared considering the circumstances, but it was too late, Voldemort must have heard Harry move, because he suddenly turned sharply towards the row Harry had been hiding behind.

"Potter!" he heard the triumphant murmur "I knew you were here. Come, Harry, hiding is now futile."

Harry heard a curse from Perenelle, as he walked out into the next row to face Lord Voldemort.

A leer broke out on Voldemort's face when Harry appeared before him.

"Ah, there you are! I'm glad you came, Harry. It has saved me the trouble of getting you away from Dumbledore's wards before killing you." there was a slight smile on the edges of the lipless mouth. He raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra."

Harry ducked, but that ended up being unnecessary. A green light shot out of Nicolas's wand as well, intercepting Voldemort's spell and causing them both to bounce off their original course and ricochet into the shelves behind Harry. There was a dual sound of crashes as two prophecy orbs shattered, and two low voices began to speak simultaneously, the misty figures rising from the shattered glass remains.

Before the silver prophecies had even hit the floor, Nicolas had leapt in front of Harry, shielding him, wand held out and ready to respond to the next curse Voldemort would cast.

Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise as Nicolas appeared in front of him. "Only another unforgivable can block the path of the first." he intoned "And both the Imperius and the Cruciatus are red in colour. A silent Killing Curse is quite an impressive feat, Titus, it would be a shame for me to kill you, a true waste of talent. Join me, I can offer you so much more than Potter ever could."

"No." refused Nicolas simply and predictably.

Voldemort's face twisted into a snarl. "If I must kill you to get through Potter, I will. You have wasted your life and your talent over a pathetic boy who will die soon after you." This time, Voldemort cast his spell silently.

Harry observed an electrically sizzling beam of violet light heading towards Nicolas before he was being pushed aside, out of the way, and the spell was being waved away by Nicolas's wand as if it was little more than an annoying fly.

Two red spells cast so rapidly in succession to one another it seemed they had been cast at once sped towards Voldemort, and in his haste to block them both simultaneously, the Dark Lord stumbled backwards, nearly tripping.

Harry felt a surge of hope at the thought that it was already over and won, but it was soon squashed as Voldemort regained his balance, and with a twisted grin on his lipless mouth hissed out "Fire!" in a strangely raspy voice.

Little fiery streaks of light dropped from Voldemort's wand, and started wriggling across the floor towards Nicolas like snakes, leaving scorched marble in their wake.

Nicolas actually looked puzzled and taken aback by the fiery snakes, and Voldemort took advantage of his confusion by sending two killing curses in quick succession at him, which he ducked while sending a stunner of his own.

He then had to jump out of the way of the fiery snakes that had reached him and had expanded rather ominously, but the snakes only turned and continued to advance towards his direction. A triumphant smirk lit up Nicolas' face as he muttered something under his breath and the snakes disappeared into ashes.

And so it went on, beam after beam of colourful light shooting about the chamber, shattering glass orbs at an alarming speed, fire and ice, spreading across the marble floor and then retreating.

Harry wanted to help, to try and shoot a stunner at Voldemort's back while he wasn't looking, but at that point they were both moving so fast that they had almost become a blur. Harry could not risk accidentally hitting Nicolas. He hovered in the background nervously, deflecting the occasional spell he knew how to counter, and ducking the rest.

The sounds of the crashing prophecies babbling voices, and Nicolas and Voldemort's occasionally uttered incantations were beginning to die down as the fight went on. Most of the prophecies had already shattered, and the foggy people had long ago vanished after reciting their prophecy. Both Nicolas and Voldemort were now casting silently, looking more focused than they had at the beginning, having both underestimated their rival. The only sound to be heard in the hall now was the sound of their labored breathing along with the occasional grunt of pain as one of them managed to injure the other.

Harry was ducking yet another stray spell when he caught a glimpse of a triumphant smirk on Voldemort's face before his mouth twisted to utter an incantation yet again. Before he had time to worry about the implication of Voldemort's expression, which had up until then vacillated between frustration and reluctant admiration, he felt a searing heat collide with his back, and realized he had been hit by a spell from behind.

Harry fell to the ground as his legs snapped together, his arms were glued to his side, and his mouth was frozen shut. Lying helplessly, he heard the sound of robes slither over the ground past him and towards Nicolas. The sound was soft, and very faint, and Harry knew that though he, in close proximity to the ground could hear it, there was no way Nicolas could. In the heat of battle, he hadn't even noticed Harry fall.

Panicking, Harry uselessly tried to fight the spell, desperate to warn Nicolas that someone had come to help Voldemort- someone who was now creeping up on him silently. It was of no use, of course, and Harry lay helplessly on the ground, waiting for Perenelle to intervene on Nicolas's behalf, or at least stun the newcomer. Nothing happened, though, and for a few agonizing moments, Harry lay on the ground helpless, watching the figure creep up on Nicolas.

Then- miraculously, incredibly, a sharp crack was heard in the air as the cloaked figure accidentally stepped on a broken shard that was once a prophecy. It made a huge cracking noise that immediately alerted Nicolas to the dark figure's presence.

A split second and a flash of red light later, the figure had fallen to the ground with a thump, and Nicolas had resumed battling Voldemort, a frown of concentration on his face. Voldemort snarled at Nicolas, and sent three green lights at him in rapid succession. Dodging them, Nicolas sent a killing curse back, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as the fight became terrifyingly deadly before his very eyes.

A sudden flash of fire obstructed Harry's view of the fight for a second, and when it disappeared, and the bright spots in front of Harry's eyes cleared, he saw, with relief, Dumbledore standing there, Fawkes the Phoenix on his shoulder.

Voldemort must have realized that the tables had turned at the exact second that Harry had. He may have been able to hold his own against Nicolas and Dumbledore separately, but he was outnumbered and outmaneuvered. Casting one last killing curse at Harry, which was deflected by Nicolas, he vanished.

Nicolas was left standing alone on the broken shards of glass amongst the empty shelves that had once contained hundreds of prophecies. His chest was heaving and he looked slightly confused, standing with his hand still outstretched to utter a curse at an enemy who had suddenly disappeared.

It took him a moment to realize his help was no longer needed, and when he did, Nicolas winked at Harry, turned to salute Dumbledore, and disappeared with a pop.

"Harry?"

It was just him and Dumbledore now, and Harry felt a tinge of shock at the confusion in his headmaster's voice. Dumbledore always seemed to know everything, it was strange to think that this time Harry held all of the cards while his Headmaster was the one that was left out of the loop.

"Harry?" Dumbledore canceled the body-binding spell Harry was under and repeated the question, and then added "Are you Harry?"

Harry nodded silently and moved to get up, only to fall back to the ground with a cry of pain. The pain surprised him, since he hadn't been aware of any injuries. It came as a shock to him to look down and see a shard of glass embedded in his calf.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore was now leaning over him, peering at him gravely from behind his half-moon glasses. His gaze landed on Harry's bleeding leg "Ah. Wait just a second Harry, I'm afraid this will be painful."

Harry was unable to stifle a yelp as Dumbledore jerked his wand and the shard of glass flew out of his leg. A second later, though, the pain was gone, and Harry stretched his foot out gingerly.

"Thank you, Sir." he said hoarsely "I must have fallen on it when that Death Eater petrified me." he pointed towards the fallen figure of the cloaked man who had tried to sneak up on Nicolas. He was still lying on the ground, out cold.

Dumbledore spun around, and, walking over to the prone body on the floor, flipped it over, revealing its face.

"Snape!" Harry breathed, feeling sickened as horror and hatred welled up inside him "Snape was-"

"Maintaining his cover as spy." interrupted Dumbledore "While still managing to alert you, or- I suppose- your imposter to his presence, and allowing himself to be stunned and removed as a threat. He acted on my orders, and he played the part skillfully."

"But-" said Harry in protest, not quite sure what he was protesting, but feeling confused and distrustful "but he-"

"Not now, Harry." spoke Dumbledore "Ennervate."

Snape groaned as he stirred, but before Harry had time to feel shocked at the moment of vulnerability that Snape of all people was displaying, his teacher was already back on his feet, giving him a familiar and hated glare.

"Potter you bloody idiot, what the hell-"

"Not now, Severus." said Dumbledore, interrupting him. "There are many things I wish to understand as well, but they must wait for now. There are many people back in headquarters who are anxiously waiting to hear from us. Harry can explain everything to us while he debriefs everyone else as well."

Snape frowned, but other than the glare he shot at Harry, showed no indication of his feelings.

"Good!" said Dumbledore happily "Come, Fawkes!"

The bird, who had been happily grooming Harry's hair up until that point, seeming oblivious to all of the drama, gave one last trill, and fluttered up to Dumbledore, landing on his outstretched hand.

"Harry, Severus, put your hands on Fawkes. And don't look so reluctant! Traveling by phoenix is quite a different experience from any other form of magical transportation."

It was a different experience. Harry felt warmth traveling down his arm from the place where he was touching Fawkes, and spread all over his body, like standing under a warm shower.

The feeling was pleasant at first, but then the warmth grew hotter and hotter until Harry felt that any second now it would become too hot to bear, that he would have to let go. It didn't though, and flames burst in front of Harry's eyes, only to dissipate a second later, leaving him feeling slightly cold and quite unsettled.

All in all, he decided, it wasn't nearly as bad as portkey or apparating, but there was something quite unsettling about the experience, and Harry thought he might almost prefer one of the other methods.

A quick look around revealed that Harry was standing at the entrance to Grimmauld Place, and he quickly followed Dumbledore and Snape who had already begun heading down the hall and towards the kitchen.

Making sure to keep his footsteps as silent as possible, so as not to wake the slumbering portrait, Harry hurried into the room and closed the door behind him.

Looking around the room gave Harry a start. Usually, the kitchen was full of Weasley children chatting and laughing together, joking with the younger members of the Order like Tonks and Emmeline, while savory smells drifted out of some pot that Mrs. Weasley was stirring.

The atmosphere in the room was quite different now and Harry immediately concluded that he had entered an Order meeting. There were only adults sitting around the table, and they were all silent and somber. Harry spotted Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite grim, though that was nothing new, magic eye spinning manically. And there was Sirius, face chalk-white. Remus had his hand on Sirius' shoulder, and almost looked like he was holding him down, keeping Sirius from leaping out of his chair.

Other than that, only Kingsley Shaklebolt and Tonks were present, giving Harry the feeling that he was in the presence of the Order of the Phoenix's 'inner circle'- the most experienced and competent fighters only.

Sirius started at the noise of Harry and Snape entering the room, and, spotting Harry, leapt out of his chair, making a low noise in his throat.

"Harry." his voice was raspy, and Harry was abruptly reminded of the first night he had met Sirius- dirty, wild, and desperate.

"Harry you're alright!" He made another choking sound in his throat, and Harry realized he was holding back a sob. Feeling incredibly guilty, Harry allowed Sirius to pull him into an embrace, despite the discomforting awareness that the whole Order, including Snape, was watching them. It was the least he could do.

It took about half a minute for Sirius to release Harry from the hug, and when he did there was a scowl on his face. "What the hell were you thinking? Running off after Voldemort like that alone, without alerting anyone!"

Before Harry could come up with a reply, Dumbledore intervened. "We're actually all hoping to hear an explanation of what happened in the Ministry, Harry. And of your reasons for acting the way you did." The rebuke was stated softly, but it still caused indignation to well up in Harry. He'd never quite felt comfortable with Dumbledore since the night Voldemort had stolen the fake Philosopher's Stone, and he didn't feel that his decisions were Dumbledore's business.

"Why don't we all sit down and allow Harry to explain his side of the story." Said Remus softly, and Harry looked at him gratefully as both Sirius and Dumbledore settled down.

Slipping into the only remaining vacant seat, unfortunately placed between Sirius and Snape, Harry took a steadying breath, and began by telling the room of his vision.

"I take it the Occlumency lessons weren't successful?" asked Dumbledore, once Harry had finished describing his vision.

Harry blushed as he shook his head.

He was avoiding looking at Snape, so he didn't see the expression he had on his face, though he imagined he was sneering as he replied: "Potter's mind is weak, and ill suited for Occlumency. His laziness and unwillingness to try further impeded his learning."

Harry didn't know if he should be feeling angry at Snape, or grateful for the fact that he didn't disclose to the whole Order that he had caught Harry snooping in his private memories. In the end, he simply avoided all gazes and occupied himself by pulling on a loose thread on his robes.

"Very well." said Dumbledore, thankfully deciding to let the issue lie for the moment. "What did you do next, Harry?"

What Harry had done next was call Nicolas. But how could he explain that to the Order members? How could he even begin to try and describe their strange and secret friendship without divulging secrets he was magically bound against revealing?

Of course, Nicolas had already provided him with the perfect excuse, Harry realized with a jolt.

"After I had the vision I called Titus." he replied calmly.

"Titus?"

"He's the man who was fighting Voldemort. The one you thought was me." Harry explained.

"Potter's double who could suddenly hold his own in a fight?" Snape asked, and Harry realized that it must have been very confusing for him to see Harry fighting Voldemort like a dueling champion, while another him dodged stray spells and tried to stay out of the way.

"He wasn't really me, he was just using Polyjuice Potion." Harry said.

"Yes, Potter, we realize that, but who was he?" asked Snape impatiently.

"Titus Travers is an assassin." Harry replied, sticking to Nicolas's story.

"An assassin?" Kingsley questioned.

Sirius frowned deeply. "Harry, surely you know better than to get involved with that kind of-"

"I'm already involved with Voldemort!" said Harry, interrupting him hotly "Involved with a man so feared that you all just flinched when I said his name, and I am number one on his hit-list. I'm in deep trouble whether or not I'm in contact with Titus. In fact, I'm much safer for knowing him, since he plans to fight Voldemort for me."

"Harry," Lupin resumed the lecturing for Sirius "you don't mess with these kinds of people! They are murderers as a profession! You think you can trust one to not hurt you? To kill Voldemort for you? What in the name of Merlin made you think that this was a good idea?"

"It's too late for me not to get in danger, Remus, you know that. I will have to face Voldemort again, you know I will. He's a clever and powerful wizard who's determined to kill me, and not even Dumbledore's protections have managed to keep him away so far. No offense." he added, turning to Dumbledore.

"None taken. However much I regret that fact, it is true." Dumbledore said with a tired smile.

"Exactly." said Harry, turning back to Lupin "Dumbledore can't stop him, and you know he'll come for me again, and I don't stand a chance against him. I'm doomed if I don't do anything, so hiring an assassin to protect me seemed like the smartest thing to do."

Harry had never actually pondered all of this before, but as he spoke the words he realized how true they were. Dumbledore couldn't stop Voldemort from coming for him, and Harry didn't stand a chance against Voldemort. Nicolas was truly the only thing standing between Harry and certain death. The thought made him shiver, and he tightened his cloak around him before continuing his speech.

"Anyways, Titus has a pretty great motivation to protect me. It's not like he's doing it for free, and I have quite a bit of money in my vault."

Looking around the room, it seemed to Harry that not everyone had been convinced by his sound logic. It was a shame, since Harry had been feeling rather proud of how sensible and intelligent he had made himself out to be while inventing a story with absolutely no warning.

Sirius didn't seem to share his opinion though, and was shaking his head at Harry. "Harry, do you know what kind of dark magics these kinds of people deal with? It's not safe! I don't know what made you think-"

"Oh, shut it, Black!" said Snape, interrupting "Potter has finally done one intelligent act in his life, and you're trying to discourage it? We should all be celebrating the fact that he finally had the humility to realize that a fifteen year old boy stands no chance against the Dark Lord, not scolding him!"

"You filthy Death Eater! You're just trying to encourage Harry to endanger himself so he'll get killed before your boss needs to kill him! Why, I should-" Sirius didn't get to finish the sentence as Snape lunged at him.

Harry watched Sirius and Snape rolling on the floor in incredulous amusement. Order meetings were far more interesting than he had ever imagined! And he had imagined them to be quite interesting.

Suddenly, his view was blocked by purple robes with gold trimming. Dumbledore gestured for Harry to follow him, and Harry reluctantly got up and left the room, casting a wistful glance back at the kitchen where Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt were now trying to pull Snape and Sirius apart, and appeared to be failing quite spectacularly.

Harry sighed as the door closed behind Dumbledore. He had hoped to see Snape being punched before the night was over, but it appeared that it was not to be. (And so what if Snape had taken his side against the Order? He was still a bastard.)

"Well, Harry, I thinks it might be better to continue this conversation one on one. Especially considering the quite unnecessary glimpse you got into the way the Order deals with disagreement." His beard twitched. "Will you tell me what happened after you called Mr. Travers?"

"He came to Hogwarts to get some of my hair so he could Polyjuice himself as me." Harry replied, and proceeded to tell the rest of the story as it had happened from that point on. When he got to the part in which they listened to the prophecy, Dumbledore sighed, and looked as defeated as Harry had ever seen him.

"To be honest, Sir, I don't know why you made such an effort to keep Voldemort from hearing the prophecy. I don't think it made any difference to him. On the other hand, it certainly makes a big difference to me. Why didn't you ever tell me there was a prophecy?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Perhaps I was wrong in keeping the information from you, but I didn't want to burden you with that kind of knowledge. I wanted your childhood to be carefree and happy, unburdened with the dark knowledge of an upcoming struggle with Voldemort."

It was a terrible excuse, and Harry barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "You know very well, sir, that my childhood was not carefree and happy. Ever since my first year at Hogwarts, Voldemort made it clear that he was out to get me- prophecy or no."

Dumbledore's eyes were gentle when he replied: "It's different, isn't it, having a vague fear of Voldemort and knowing that you'll have to kill him or be killed?"

Harry flinched at the distressing reminder, but remained unconvinced. The prophecy seemed like information that was too important for Dumbledore to be making executive decisions regarding it on Harry's behalf. Still, he didn't pursue the point. He didn't really care to involve Dumbledore in his emotions and thoughts, and he was far too tired to get into an argument with him.

Dumbledore must have sensed that the conversation was over, because he said "You must be tired, and ready to return to school. Fawkes will take you back to Gryffindor Tower, where your worried friends are probably waiting."

Harry winced at the reminder. Ron and Hermione would want to know what had happened and he would be forced to lie to them too.

Then Fawkes landed on his shoulder, chirping soothingly, and Harry felt himself relax as he was transported to Gryffindor Tower.

Two solitary figures had been sitting quietly on Ron's bed, waiting in the deserted dormitory while sounds of the end-of-year celebrations drifted up from the common room. They jumped up at the flash of fire as Harry appeared with a phoenix of his shoulder.

"Harry! You're alright!" Ron's freckles stood out vividly against his pale face, but he was smiling brightly with relief, colour already returning to his tired features. Hermione said nothing and simply hugged Harry, nearly breaking his bones with the strength of her embrace.

"Where the bloody hell did you run off to?" demanded Ron "And why didn't you tell us anything? Hermione was worried sick!"

"And Ron even more so." replied Hermione, laughing at Ron "He nearly tread a hole in this carpet." She ruffled Harry's hair in a gesture she knew he found annoying. "What were you thinking? Vanishing like that, only leaving a lousy note for us to find!"

"I'm sorry." said Harry "Look, everything's alright. Dumbledore and the Order are already briefed, so just let me explain." and he told them the same story he had told the Order. The lie felt far more uncomfortable this time, keeping things from a group of adults who were almost strangers wasn't the same as keeping things from his best friends.

Ron was, as Harry predicted, quite supportive of Harry's fictional decision to hire an assassin to fight Voldemort. It was Hermione that Harry was feeling nervous about. Going behind the Order's back and flouting their authority in order to seek the assistance of an outlaw didn't seem like the kind of thing she would approve of. She remained silent, though, throughout the telling of Harry's story and Ron's subsequent questions about what the assassin was like and just how many people he had killed.

Finally, Harry turned to her. "You haven't said anything this whole time, Hermione. I take it you don't approve?"

Hermione shook her head thoughtfully. "It makes me uncomfortable, certainly, the thought of you dealing with a dangerous person, one who has no reason to be loyal to you. I would feel far better if I knew that you were under Dumbledore's complete protection and that he would let nothing harm you. The thing is, you aren't under Dumbledore's complete protection, hard as it is to acknowledge. He didn't stop Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher's Stone and trying to kill you in first year, he didn't stop Tom Riddle from petrifying students and trying to kill you in second year, you were all alone again last year, when Voldemort tried to kill you again and Dumbledore didn't succeed in preventing it. He may be a powerful wizard, but he is also a very busy man and prone to mistakes, and-" her eyes hardened "I don't think he'd be willing to fight dirty. I admire his nobility, Harry, but I don't want to hear another word about love and redemption. I want to hear that the man who is trying to kill my best friend is going to die, and that it's going to happen through any means necessary.

"While Dumbledore seems to expect you to face up against Voldemort nobly as is your destiny, an assassin will expect you to stay hidden like an intelligent wizard who knows his limitations. So while the idea of you contacting an assassin makes me nervous, I completely approve of your actions. Even if that does mean that I'm on Snape's side." She shuddered at the thought.

They all laughed.

"So what did you do?" asked Harry "once you saw my note? I'm assuming you had something to do with how quickly Dumbledore showed up."

"Well, we reported it to the Order immediately, of course." was Hermione's practical reply.

"But how? There weren't any Order members left in the school! Dumbledore was gone, and McGonagal was taken to St. Mungo's!" Harry's eyes narrowed "Do you know something I don't?"

"Well I don't know, Harry, is the existence of a Professor Snape something you don't know about?" Hermione replied primly.

Harry smacked his forehead. "Snape! I can't believe I forgot about him!"

Ron snorted. "Really, mate, I may not like Snape either, but even I managed to get over my hate enough to go to him at an emergency like this!"

Harry scowled in reply. "So what happened once you went to Snape?"

"He sent Dumbledore a message in a bottle." said Hermione.

Harry stared at her incredulously.

"Really!" she insisted "He wrote a message and put it in a bottle, and just hurled the bottle at the wall. The bottle just passed right through. Then he put on his cloak and said he was going to help until Dumbledore arrived."

"We said we wanted to join him." Ron picked up from where Hermione left off. "We tried to convince him to take us along, but he just ignore us, acted like we weren't there. Finally Hermione stood in front of him and said she wouldn't move until she had his word he'd take her with him. Merlin, was that the wrong move. He stunned us both."

"He's really fast." said Hermione "I didn't have any time to react. He must have just left us on the floor in his quarters, because that's where we were when Mr. Weasley ennervated us half an hour later. He told us not to worry and that Dumbledore was taking care of everything and walked us back up to the dormitory. That's where we stayed, going crazy with worry and not knowing anything, until you finally came back."

"I guess that finally makes us even." Harry replied, dodging Hermione's attempt at a guilt trip "Now you know how it felt to be stuck all summer not knowing anything and going crazy with the worry and uncertainty."

Hermione nodded her head. "Fair enough. Now that it's over, though, I'd like to finally go to bed. Goodnight, Harry. I'm glad you're safe." And she departed, heading down the stairs that lead to the common room.

Harry and Ron started preparing for bed in companionable silence, and Harry yawned, thinking of bed yearningly. But his night was not over yet. As soon as Ron left for the loo and Harry was alone in the dormitory, he heard the sound of tapping on his window.

He opened the window and let the Flamel owl in. "Smart owl." he told it "Waiting til I was alone."

The owl rubbed its head against Harry's neck as Harry read the note.

 _Much to discuss._ _Are you too tired to come over now? If so, send reply back with Frankie, and we meet tomorrow. If you're up for it, use the floo in Gryffindor common room. Address: Number 2, Deadman's Lane, London. I've bribed someone in the Magical Transportation Office, you shouldn't have any problems with the protections that prevent students from leaving the school._

 _See you soon,_

 _Nicolas._

Harry sighed. He was almost tempted to write back saying he was too tired and they should meet tomorrow, but he knew he couldn't. He had been so intent on getting Dumbledore to properly explain his actions regarding the prophecy, that he had forgotten to ask him what he thought the prophecy actually meant.

Harry was confused, and he hoped that Nicolas would be able to make some sense of the chaos.

So, with a sigh, he told Frankie that he could fly back home, there would be no response. Then, yawning, he arranged his bedcovers so that if Ron peeked in it would look as if someone were underneath, pulled down the hangings to his four-poster, and headed down to the Gryffindor common room.

Harry was a bit worried about flooing out of Gryffindor common room with so many partiers still down there, but once he reached the party he found that most of the revelry had died down and that most of the students were lying sprawled out on the couched sleeping. The remaining students were busy playing Strip Exploding Snap, and were far too drunk to pay him any attention.

A few moments later he was brushing soot off his clothes and stepping out of a large white fireplace onto the wooden floor of the Flamel home.

"Harry!" Perenelle was wearing her sleeping clothes but smiling rather energetically at Harry. "Nicolas is fixing himself something to eat in the kitchen. Come, I'll lead you, though I'm afraid I can't stay for the conversation, there's a project I'm working on currently that I hope to finish today."

Harry followed her to a brightly lit room, and found Nicolas sitting at a small round table, eating a sandwich. He waved Harry in once he spotted him. "Come, sit."

Harry sat down across from Nicolas.

"I apologize, Harry, if I called you in later than was strictly necessary, I can see you are tired." Harry had stifled two yawns since sitting down and he chuckled with rueful agreement. "The thing is," Nicolas continued "that I wanted some time to think before talking to you, to make sure there was nothing I had overlooked."

Harry waved for him to continue.

"All in all, I feel that it has been a successful night. There were no injuries to any of us, and we gained some very important information."

"The prophecy?" Harry asked.

"It not only helps us understand Voldemort's motives and anticipate his future movements, it also sheds light on some of his past actions. I, for one, am relieved to understand the reasoning behind the interest Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort have taken in you. The prophecy explains why Dumbledore used protections he knew you would be able to get through when hiding the Philosopher's Stone, why Voldemort waited to steal the Stone until the night you'd be there, why he entered you in that ridiculous tournament. It all makes sense now.

"Dumbledore wanted you to confront Voldemort because he hoped you'd succeed in beating him somehow. Voldemort wanted to confront you because, while he didn't know the whole prophecy, he knew it existed and guessed that you would be a threat. He wanted to either get you to join his side, or to kill you while you're still young and vulnerable. And he'll be even more determined to kill than ever before now that he knows the contents of the prophecy.

"By the way, I don't want you to think that just because I said that I now understand Dumbledore's actions I condone them. Bloody irresponsible is what it is, letting an eleven-year-old fight someone like Voldemort because a prophecy said he might be able to defeat him. Still, I find it comforting to discover that he doesn't secretly want you dead or something. Isn't it nice when things finally make sense?"

"It would be nicer," replied Harry "if it didn't mean that I now have to either kill Voldemort or die. I'm doomed."

"Poppycock!" exclaimed Nicolas "Prophecies were made to be ignored! Don't you know this? Haven't you ever read Oedipus?"

"But that's fiction!" Harry protested.

"That doesn't mean there isn't truth in it. Prophecies are almost always self-fulfilling. Take this prophecy, for example: If Voldemort hadn't known of it, he would never have tried to kill you, your mother never would have died for you, and his killing curse would never have backfired. By paying attention to the prophecy, he created the connection between the two of you, causing it to come true!"

"Some prophecies come true whether you believe in them or not." Harry told Nicolas solemnly "I heard a prophecy once, and I didn't do anything about it, I didn't even know it was a prophecy at the time, but it still came true that very night."

"Really? Will you tell me the story?"

Harry told Nicolas of Trelawney's prediction and the events of the night that Wormtail escaped.

Nicolas was impressed by the story, but remained unimpressed by Harry's conviction that the prophecy was true. "Trust me, Harry, this prophecy is of the self-fulfilling kind. Without it, there would be no reason for Voldemort to concern himself with a fifteen-year-old wizard still studying at Hogwarts. Relax, and let me take care of the problem."

Harry was about to reply, but was cut short by a few extremely loud bangs emerging from the basement. A few seconds later Perenelle's voice shouted from below: "Success!"

"That's wonderful, darling!" Nicolas shouted back at her. Then he turned back to Harry. "Harry, I'm sorry, but I simply won't hear any more argument on the subject. It's simply preposterous of you to expect me to allow a man only a fraction of my age and who had not yet completed his magical schooling to face up against the man who is so powerful people are nervous about saying his name, when I can handle the situation easily myself."

"That's not accurate!" Harry protested, "I saw you duel Voldemort, and I saw that fighting him wasn't as easy for you as you had made me think it would be."

"Well, I suppose I was a bit rusty," Nicolas conceded, "I haven't had a good fight ever since we put the fake Philosopher's Stone in Gringotts, and the thieves stopped coming here trying to steal it. And Perenelle _is_ the better fighter of the two of us. But I'm still far more qualified to fight Voldemort than you are, and with a bit of practice I'll be back at the top of my game in no time."

This wasn't as reassuring to Harry as Nicolas had probably intended- Harry's concept of 'no time' differed greatly from that of Nicolas. Instead of pursuing that point, though, Harry brought up another issue that had been bothering him. "You said Perenelle is the better fighter of the two of you, but she didn't help you at all during the duel. I can understand not shooting spells at Voldemort, you two were moving so fast I would have been afraid of hitting you instead of him by mistake, but why didn't she take care of Snape when he was sneaking up behind you, looking like he was going to attack you?"

"A slight complication we had overlooked." Nicolas replied, grimacing, "There are very few places in which magic is so saturated in the air that it disables muggle objects, so we hadn't thought about it, but the Department of Mysteries is one of those places. So is Hogwarts, by the way. Perenelle tried to shoot the Death Eater the second she caught him sneaking up on me, but her gun just wouldn't work. It was quite the frustrating experience for her. In fact, unless I am much mistaken, she will make building a gun that works in heavily magical areas her next project. "

"So her gun didn't work, why didn't she just use her wand instead?"

"Perenelle is a squib, Harry." said Nicolas, chuckling. The thought of Perenelle with a wand appeared to amuse him.

Harry didn't see what was so funny about his assumption that Perenelle could use magic. "You said that Perenelle was great at making potions! And I always figured that Soulcruxes were a kind of light magic, I didn't know that muggles would be able to create them as well."

Nicolas shook his head. "Harry, squibs and muggles aren't the same thing. A squib has magical abilities, they're just very weak, so they usually can't cast spells. They can create magical substances, though, like potions. They can also see dementors, whereas muggles can't." Harry suddenly remembered Mrs. Figg's affronted 'Yes, we can!' when questioned by Fudge about whether squibs could see dementors at Harry's trial last summer.

Nicolas sighed happily. "You know, I vividly remember Perenelle the way she was when I first met her. She was a slight thing, so short and thin, but she walked around like she knew she was the most capable person in the wizarding world, and that made everyone believe it as well. She saved my life, you know."

The next half hour was pleasantly spent listening to Nicolas's stories and eating sandwiches, until Harry nearly fell asleep in his chair and Nicolas determined that it was time for him to floo back to Hogwarts.


	4. I Know You

Author's note: I'm becoming aware that the lengths of this story's chapters are completely uneven. I hope it's not too annoying, since I can't seem to control it.

I've already replied to all the signed reviews I've gotten so far, but I have no way to replying to anonymous readers. So I just want you to know how grateful I am for you taking the effort to review. Thank you!

On with the chapter-

* * *

 **Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls**

 **Part II: Dreams**

 **Chapter Four: I Know You**

 **Year Six**

"What's eating you, Harry?" Perenelle asked when Harry sighed quietly halfway through the film they were watching.

Because Harry had been stressing about their lack of plan regarding Voldemort, Nicolas had invited him over to 'discuss strategy' as he had called it when issuing the invitation, in a gesture of appeasement of sorts. Somehow, though, it had ended up being a discussion of all the different creative ways they could do Voldemort in. When Perenelle had suggested dropping a piano on his head, the 'war council' had disbanded for the sake of going to watch Wile E. Coyote and The Road Runner.

At Harry's sigh, though, both had taken their eyes off the screen and were staring at Harry with concern on their face, making him feel guilty for ruining their fun with his inability to stop worrying.

"I have another 'session' with Dumbledore tomorrow evening." Harry told them "And somehow I don't think it'll be any more useful than what we're doing here."

"You know," said Nicolas, "Once we knew about the prophecy, I thought that Dumbledore's actions finally made sense, but I'm currently baffled. He obviously believes that the only way to get rid of Voldemort is for you to succeed in killing him. Now, I completely disagree with that premise, but let's put that aside for now. Assuming the only way Voldemort could die is by your hands, why does he promise to help you, only to cryptically show you a random memory that is only semi-related to Voldemort, and wait months before scheduling the next session? What will he show Harry next, do you think, the memory of Voldemort's conception?"

Harry chuckled, but Perenelle seemed to consider the question seriously. "I'd told you Nicolas, didn't I, just when we first met him, that that boy's problem was that he was too clever. A brilliant mind, and he knew it. People like that just go with their ideas and don't stop to consider if the people involved in them are happy with the direction they're going, because as far as they're concerned- they are the ones who know how things should be. He probably is working according to his own convoluted plan to get Harry to kill Voldemort, with no regard to how Harry feels about the matter."

Harry groaned. "Can we please not talk about Dumbledore's convoluted plans right now? I'll be getting enough of that tomorrow."

"Very well," said Nicolas "we're getting to the best part of the film as it is."

They all cheered when Wile E. Coyote was once again hoisted by his own petard.

* * *

Harry moved down the stairs leading from Dumbledore's office, his mind racing. The latest memory that Dumbledore had shown him, the one of a young Tom Riddle, had given him much food for thought. Dumbledore's words after they had viewed the memory were especially interesting: _"Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later"._ Never before had it occurred to Harry that Dumbledore might know what Horcruxes were, but the talk of collecting objects seemed like it might be a precursor to Voldemort's accumulation of Horcruxes. Could Dumbledore have guessed the same thing that Harry and Nicolas had?

It was an intriguing thought, but if Harry was honest with himself, that hadn't been the thing that caught his interest and set his mind whirring. That honor belonged to Tom Riddle.

Harry knew what Dumbledore was thinking during the memory. Tom Riddle hadn't presented himself in the best light during that first meeting. In fact he had proven himself to be a bully.

Despite that, of the two men he had glimpsed a new side of during the memory, it was Tom Riddle that his heart went out to.

True, he wasn't exactly an unbiased observer. Ever since Harry had found out how badly he had been duped by his headmaster in the Philosopher's Stone affair, he had felt rather resentful and distrustful towards the man. He had come to these lessons that Dumbledore had arranged for them rather disinclined to believe or take seriously anything that Dumbledore revealed.

Still, Harry didn't think that his empathy for little Tom Riddle stemmed from the contrary desire to disagree with Dumbledore. He had felt true compassion for the boy that had risen in him helplessly the second the orphanage matron, Mrs. Cole, had begun disparaging him behind his back. How many times had Harry himself been discussed in harsh whispers and had lies spread about him? When he thought about it for too long, Harry could once again feel the helpless resentment and rage he felt when the neighbors would pointedly usher their children away whenever Harry approached, eyeing him distrustfully due to the latest lie Petunia had spread about him. The mere memory of the unfairness of it all, of the people who hated him before they even met him, without even knowing him still made Harry feel furious and helpless, and the scene with Mrs. Cole was too familiar not to cause a pang in Harry's heart when he had witnessed it.

He knew what it was like to be completely alone in this world. He knew how it felt to know beyond a doubt that there was not a single person in the world who would care if you lived or died. He knew how incredibly small and worthless it made one feel.

In a way, Harry was lucky that the Dursleys were so stupid. It was easier to feel like he was worth something when he held the people who had declared him worthless in utter contempt. It was easier to let go of his desire to be loved by them when he saw how destructive their love was to their son, Dudley.

When he had felt so unwanted and worthless, Harry had found comfort in assuring himself that the Dursleys opinion didn't matter, because Harry was better than them. It wasn't hard to convince himself of this fact with his relative being who they were. It wasn't long before Uncle Vernon's smug superiority towards those less fortunate than him coupled with his degrading sniveling and toadying to those with money and power, Aunt Petunia's malicious eagerness to hear ill of her neighbors and hold them in contempt, and Dudley's stupid helplessness- his inability to do anything by himself or deal with disappointment, altered Harry's standards so that he regarded being hated by the Dursleys as a badge of honor.

What was an orphan in Tom's position do, though? What was a young boy who, rather than being confronted with hatred by stupid nasty people who were worthy of no regard, was simply one of a throng of orphans, unwanted, unloved, unimportant? What would he tell himself in order to convince himself that he didn't need their appreciation, that he was worth something even without it?

He would probably, Harry thought, try to convince himself that their lack of magical abilities which he himself possessed made them inferior to him, and made their opinions of him unimportant.

It was completely untrue, of course, or so Harry believed, but how else could you stop yourself from feeling like nothing? Like a discarded piece of trash, forgotten and ignored. Harry couldn't fault Tom Riddle for his coping mechanism when he didn't know if he could have done any better in Tom's place.

Harry didn't think that dwelling in his hatred for everyone around him was the smart way for Tom Riddle to deal, but in a young boy of ten years the stupidity was to be expected. It was, in any case, far more excusable than Dumbledore's stupidity.

Dumbledore's stupidity was in his mistaken thinking that he could figure everything out by himself without adjusting his plans to the circumstances and the people that they involved. At least, that's the impression that Harry had gotten, and Perenelle agreed with him. This kind of stupidity in an old, mature man, was far less pardonable than that of a ten-year-old, and Harry felt far less sympathetic towards it.

It was why, Harry concluded as he climbed through the portrait-hole to the Gryffindor common room, Dumbledore had only seen in Tom hatred and arrogance, and never saw the vulnerability that it masked.

Though, Harry mused as he went into the bathroom and began brushing his teeth, he couldn't really fault Dumbledore for that particular misconception. Dumbledore hadn't had the childhood experiences that Harry and Tom did, and so there was no reason for him to have Harry's unique perspective on the situation.

Harry's thoughts returned again to Tom Riddle, bristled up with anger and indignation when Dumbledore first introduced himself, expecting to be declared a freak once more. That had probably a significant moment for Tom- he had learned of a world where he could belong, but the first person he had met from there had treated him with the same suspicion he'd gotten from the muggles. Harry wondered how that felt. He wondered what he himself would be like, if, instead of being introduced to the wizarding world by the warm and welcoming Hagrid, he would have been treated coldly and with suspicion. Suppose Snape had been sent to give him his Hogwarts letter instead of Hagrid.

Harry shuddered. Tom Riddle had never really had a chance, had he?

Harry felt his heart go out to that little boy, long since gone. He looked around carefully- he was alone in the bathroom. Everyone else had already gone to sleep.

He spoke tentatively, half-embarrassed: "Can you hear me? Nicolas isn't sure if you're conscious or not. He says that his soul inside Perenelle isn't, but the diary Horcrux was, and I thinks you're probably more of a Horcrux than a Soulcrux.

"If you can hear me, if you understand what I'm saying to you, I want you to know that I'm glad you decided to reside in me when you split off from Voldemort's soul. I know I didn't react well at first, but I'm happy with the idea of you being in me- of me preserving some part of the person Tom Riddle once was. So if you're aware in there, I wanted you to know that." He concluded, rather awkwardly.

His hand flew to his scar a second later, a stifled exclamation on his lips. For a fleeting moment, he had thought he felt warmth, emanating from his scar, but the sensation was gone as swiftly as it had come.

Harry touched his scar lightly, wondering if he had really felt a response to his words, or if it was just his imagination coupled with wishful thinking.

* * *

That night Harry dreamt of Tom Riddle.

He was in the orphanage, hearing Mrs. Cole's account of Tom- as if he had taken over Dumbledore's role in the memory.

Mrs. Cole had stood up and was leading him to Tom Riddle's room, and Harry knew, the way one knows in dreams- without knowing how he knew, that this was his chance to fix things. That if he handled his meeting with Tom the right way, and showed him empathy instead of suspicion- he would be able to reverse everything. He would erase all the bad and set Tom on the road to healing his soul instead of damaging it further.

Mrs. Cole was gone now, and Harry was standing outside the door to Tom's room. It wasn't the wasn't the plain door he had seen in Dumbledore's memory. The wood of this door was old and full of splinters, and it looked like it was rotting, but Harry knew that it was the door to Tom Riddle's room nevertheless.

He entered, and saw a small, childlike shape sitting, shoulders hunched and with his back to the door. Harry closed the door softly behind him, leaving himself and Tom alone in the room. The noise made Tom turn around to look at him, and Harry nearly screamed as he saw Tom's face.

It wasn't the face of the handsome ten-year-old boy he had been expecting. It was the face of Voldemort- pale, snakelike, red eyes glinting with malice.

Instinctively, Harry reached into his pocket for his wand, wanting to curse the horrible thing into oblivion.

His hand shook though, and paused in motion when he thought he saw the creature flinch back. It was a miniscule motion, but Harry had caught it, and his head suddenly lowered in shame. Here he was, making the exact same mistake Dumbledore had. He had looked at the boy and seen only the ugly mask, had forgotten to look for the soul underneath. His wand dropped to the floor.

Harry cautiously began approaching the figure, pausing a few steps in to see how he would react. Voldemort's face continued to stare at him impassively, unresponsive. Was it Harry's imagination, or did his face seem just a little more human than he remembered? He was certain that Voldemort's face, as he had seen it in the Department of Mysteries last year, had been more pale and the eyes more narrow.

Harry continued walking up to the figure that was Tom, or Voldemort, he couldn't decide which. Whoever he was, he remained unresponsive. Harry tentatively reached out and put a hand on the figure's shoulder. The red eyes closed for a brief moment and then opened again. Other than that there was no reaction.

"You make it hard." Harry told him "I can see why Dumbledore saw you the way he did, you make it hard. You push all your hatred out until it blinds whoever looks at you, and all they can see is your anger and hate and bullying. I'm not blinded, though." Harry said, staring at the eyes that seemed oddly dead "I can see the other things. You're smart, and dedicated. You're willing to work for the things you want to accomplish, rather than hoping things will come to you by virtue of good luck. You know how you want things to be, and you're confident enough in your brains to stick by your ideas and make them reality. I really admire that. I want you to know that I admire those traits in you and think that you're definitely _definitely_ worth something far beyond the worth of power and magic. Even if you were to never exert your power over another person ever again you'd be worth something."

And finally, _finally_ , Harry had proof that Tom had been listening, that he was aware of Harry. He tilted his head. Not far, but just enough so that instead of staring straight ahead, he was staring into Harry's eyes. Harry didn't know what he saw there, but suddenly, he saw the snakelike face waver for a second, and then is was replaced by the childlike face of the young Tom Riddle. His eyes were suspiciously bright, and Harry fancied that he could see unshed tears gathering at the corners. Then Harry blinked, and Tom Riddle's face was replaced once more with Voldemort's pale visage.

Tom Riddle stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Harry alone.

* * *

"Not that we aren't happy to have you over for breakfast, Harry," Nicolas told him, flipping pancakes as he spoke, "but is there a particular reason you decided to drop by?"

"Does it have to do with the lesson Dumbledore gave you last night?" Perenelle asked.

"Partially." Harry told her, "A lot of things happened last night, and I'm starting to think that Voldemort's soul inside me is conscious. Last night-"

Harry stopped. He suddenly found that he didn't want to tell Nicolas and Perenelle about what had happened last night. Not about the warmth he had felt from his scar when he'd spoken to the Horcrux, and not about the incredibly vivid dream he had had after that. It felt oddly private, and the thought of saying what had happened out loud made him feel unsettled.

"You know what, I don't want to talk about it." He told Nicolas, "but, you know, I think the soul inside of me really is good."

Nicolas's warm hand covered his shoulder. "I can easily believe that."

"Of course it is." Perenelle added, "It's spent the last fifteen years bound to your soul. Even if it didn't know love at first, it does now."

"What does that even mean?" Harry demanded.

"Oh, I think you know." Perenelle replied nonchalantly, stirring some more batter.

* * *

A week later Harry found Tom again in his dream. Or rather, Tom found him.

Harry was lying on the grassy lawn, near the lake, enjoying the sun and watching the giant squid waltz across the lake with Professor Trelawney when Tom approached him. His figure was rather indistinct, and flickering strangely like an old television, the image constantly wavering between that of a little boy with brown eyes and a serious face and that of the grown monster who the little boy had become, staring at him contemplatively.

For some reason, the situation didn't seem odd to Harry, and he continued to lie in the sun, relaxing, while Tom, or Voldemort, stared at him. Finally, the little boy Tom seemed to gather up the courage he was searching for, and he sat down next to Harry on the grass.

Harry sat up and looked at him. "Did you come here so that I would tell you that you're worth something again?"

The boy nodded, still looking deathly serious, and Harry chuckled wryly.

"You are, Tom. Or, you were, but you threw it away. I'm not naive enough to ignore the bad in you. You're cruel simply for the sake of being cruel and proving you're better than the people around you, and that's despicable. It's just that I don't think it had to be this way. I don't think that the bad had more weight than the good and that you had no choice but to be consumed by hate, I think there could have been another path for you." He was speaking to Voldemort now, his figure replacing that of the little boy.

When Harry had listed his bad qualities, the things he disliked in Tom, the pale head had inclined respectfully in acknowledgement of the truth of the words. He had nodded slightly when Harry said that it didn't have to end up the way it did.

Voldemort then stood up and walked away.

* * *

Over the following weeks, Harry, who had begun to think that the Voldemort he was encountering in his vivid dreams was, in fact, the piece of soul inside him, had gotten into the habit of talking aloud to the soul whenever he was alone. He didn't talk about serious matters, like he had in his dreams, but rather commented on his day or how big of a berk Snape was. There was something rather pleasant about the feeling of constant companionship that Harry had begun to experience as a result of his newfound awareness of the Horcrux's consciousness. It was hard to feel lonely when you felt like there was a presence with you at all times.

Occasionally, Harry would wish that he could know for sure if he had his privacy, and he tried to forget about the piece of Voldemort's soul when he was going to the bathroom or masturbating in the shower, because otherwise he would begin to feel incredibly awkward. Most of the time, though, Harry was rather happy imagining that the soul was listening to him and knew him. After all, this was the best of Voldemort inside of him- the part of him that knew the value of love and wanted it.

He hoped he'd get to meet the soul again in his dreams, and tried to tell himself to dream of Tom once he fell asleep, but he always forgot to look for Tom once he was dreaming.

As it happened, though, the next time Harry dreamed of Tom, he didn't search out Tom, and Tom didn't search him out. Rather, he found himself walking side by side with Voldemort down the familiar Hogwarts halls the second he entered the land of dreams. They walked together in silence for a while, until Voldemort spoke up: "This is the third time that I've dreamt of you, Potter. Is this real? Are you the real Potter? Or are you just a figment of my disturbed subconscience?"

Harry, who had wondered the same thing about Voldemort himself, replied that he was real.

Voldemort was silent for a few moments, and then spoke again: "If I ever find out that these meetings have really occurred, I don't think that I could let you live."

Harry snorted. "What else is new?"

Voldemort shook his head. "It would be for a different reason than before."

Harry contemplated that quietly for a few minutes, until Voldemort surprised him by taking his hand and saying "Come!" and began dragging Harry along the halls at an increased speed.

They walked down winding corridors and past tapestries Harry had never seen before, until they finally reached an area that was familiar to Harry. When he spotted the tapestry in which Barnabas the Barmy was attempting to teach trolls ballet, he realized that they were on the seventh floor, right near the Room of Requirement. In fact, the door to the Room of Requirement was visible, despite the fact that neither Harry nor Voldemort had walked past it three times. Voldemort pulled him through the door and into the room.

Looking around, Harry wondered what one had to wish for when pacing in front of the room for it to appear in this form. _I need a place with a collection of a lot of useless things_ perhaps, or maybe _I need a place in which I can play hide and seek forever_. The room was filled, top to bottom, with discarded objects, stacked one on top of the other as far as the eye could see.

Voldemort didn't falter in his walking, and Harry barely had time to curiously stare at a vial that contained green liquid that seemed to swirl around in it, and a disembodied eye, rather like the one that belonged to Mad-Eye Moody only the pupil was red, before he was pulled past those objects, as well as a dozen more fascinating ones, and down one of the rows.

After a while they turned right, and then left, and Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, the vanishing cabinet in which the Weasley twins had stuffed Montague last year, before Voldemort came to a stop a few steps into the new alley, and picked something up off the ground.

It was a tiara, worn, tarnished, and obviously discarded, but Voldemort handled it as if it were a priceless treasure. He eyed it almost reverently, and seemed to struggle with himself at length, before thrusting it into Harry's hand reluctantly and quickly walking away.

He glanced back one last time to look at the tiara longingly, before hurrying away out of sight.

Harry woke up with a start.

Checking his watch he saw that it was 3am, and he hurriedly tore through his trunk, searching for his invisibility cloak and putting it on.

He felt as if he were seized by a fever as he rushed out of the dorm room and then the common room, heading towards the Room of Requirement.

Here he reached his first obstacle: he had no idea what to ask for in order to call the room into existence.

Perhaps- _I need the room with all the clutter_?

Ah, yes, that worked.

The next order of business was to remember where in the huge maze Voldemort had taken him.

After one wrong turn around a corner that brought Harry to an isle in which a tattered notebook shouted rude comments and whistled at him when he walked by, Harry found the right place, recognizing it by the stuffed troll at the end of the lane. From that point on it didn't take him long to find the tiara he had been searching for, and he held it in his hand gingerly, half expecting it to start attacking him, but it did nothing.

Still holding the tiara in his hand, Harry returned to Gryffindor tower and went back to sleep.

* * *

The morning after, Harry was silently contemplating his eggs and bacon, barely aware of Ron and Hermione's conversation, when an eagle owl landed on his shoulder. It was disturbingly familiar, and it took Harry a moment to realize where he knew it from- it was the same bird that regularly delivered Draco Malfoy sweets from home.

"Go away," Harry told it "you're lost." He tried to shoo the owl, but it remained perched insistently on his shoulder. A sudden suspicion crept into Harry's mind, and he hurriedly removed the letter from the owl's leg.

It was only a slight piece of parchment that contained three words, but it made Harry's breath catch in his throat. In neat handwriting that Harry recognized from Tom Riddle's diary were the words _Is it real?_

Up until that point, Harry had assumed, for no particular reason, that his dream interactions were with the soul piece inside of him, and not with the actual Lord Voldemort. Apparently, he was wrong.

His heart in his throat, Harry scribbled back _Yes_ on the other side of the parchment and watched the bird take off. Soon, Voldemort too would know that his dream interactions with Harry had actually happened.

"Hey, wasn't that Malfoy's owl?" Ron asked, staring at the bird as it flew off.

"Just hate mail." Harry replied "Stupid berk thought I wouldn't recognize his bird."

Harry disliked lying to his friends, but he simply didn't know how to explain his dreams, or this strange interaction with Voldemort.

An hour later, Harry was forced to lied to them again. "It's just a headache." He told Ron and Hermione, rubbing his forehead, though he knew the sheer terror he was feeling from Voldemort meant that his reply had been received.


	5. I Walked With You

**Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls**

 **Part II: Dreams**

 **Chapter Five: I Walked With You**

"Nicolas Flamel!" Harry spoke into the two-way mirror.

"Good afternoon, Harry." Nicolas said pleasantly upon answering "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I think I found a Horcrux." Harry told him bluntly.

This was obviously not what Nicolas was expecting. The look of shock on his face was quite gratifying, and made Harry grin.

"If I bring it to you, you'll be able to tell if it's a Horcrux or not, right?" He asked, when it appeared that a reply from Nicolas wasn't forthcoming.

"Certainly." Nicolas said, sounding bemused "Bring it over so I can examine it. You must tell me, though, how you found it and what makes you think that it's a Horcrux."

"I'll tell you when I come over." Harry replied. His dreams involving Voldemort felt like far too sensitive a subject to be discussed in a blasé fashion, via mirror.

"Very well." Nicolas replied, "Will you be coming now? I can meet you at Hogsmeade if I know what time to meet you there. That way you can avoid taking the Knight Bus like you did last time you came over."

"I have a Defense Against the Dark Arts right after lunch, and the teacher hates me. There's no way he'll let me get away with skipping."

"Does he? And do you deserve his hatred?"

"I do now," Harry blushed at the memory of being caught in Snape's pensieve, "but he hated me from the moment he met me. He had an old grudge against my dad or something."

Nicolas raised his eyebrows, looking incredulous. "Must be some grudge to carry over generations that way. No matter, you can come over tonight when everyone's sleeping. That way you won't be missed, and your chances of getting caught will be minimal."

It was a sensible suggestion, but Harry was reluctant to miss out on any sleep. What if Voldemort would search for him in his dreams, and wouldn't be able to find him because Harry would be awake at the Flamel's?

"I don't suppose that in between all the rare artifacts you've collected over the years there might be a Time-Turner?" He asked hopefully.

Nicolas snorted. "I already have all the time in the world, why in Merlin's name would I need any more of it?"

"Fair enough." Harry conceded, "In that case, I'll come by during dinner. Meet me at the Shrieking Shack at half past six." He sighed. "I'll have to tell my friends I'm going to meet Titus Travers or something, or they'll wonder where I've gone."

"Who is Titus Travers?" Nicolas asked, his eyebrows furrowing "and why can't you tell them the truth?"

"There's so much about all my relationship with you that involves secrets that aren't mine to tell, or that I literally can't talk about, like Horcruxes. Lying about my interactions with you was just easier. And as for Titus Travers- that's what you claimed your name was when you told Voldemort that you were an assassin I hired to kill him. I had to tell the Order that I fired you once you failed to kill Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries, just to get them off my case, but my friends still think I'm in contact with you."

Nicolas sighed. "I understand now. Listen, Harry, I know that your relationship with your friends isn't my business, but if I could just give you some advice: lying drives wedges between people and is counterproductive to any friendship. Perenelle and I have often discussed the fact that the reason we lived for so much longer than most of the couples with Soulcruxes was twofold: The first was that we didn't have children, but the second was that we had no close friends. Losing a child is probably the most painful experience one can go through, and I thoroughly understand immortal couples who decided to let themselves die rather than outlive their children, but there were some couples, like Perenelle and I, who didn't have children, but nevertheless became depressed eventually and decided to pass on. Watching people you love die and leave you behind is extremely difficult.

"Perenelle and I have never really experienced that because neither of our families were worth missing, and we didn't have many close friends. It's far easier to watch the generations change around you and the people surrounding you die when you have no close connection with any of them. It wasn't a calculated decision on our part, to keep away from people, but neither of us are very social by nature, and- and this is the point of this long ramble- it's extremely hard to create and maintain a close friendship when one is constantly lying to their friend. Soulcruxes became a secret during our lifetimes, and we were probably the first couple who needed to lie about the source of their immortality. It's probably why we never had close friendships- it's impossible to create intimacy when a big part of your life is a secret.

"I'm not saying that you need to tell your friends everything. Knowledge of soul magic should not be divulged lightly, and I can understand your desire to keep the fact that Voldemort's soul is inside you a secret. You don't need to tell your friends all the gory details, but if you want to take my advice- simply telling them that there are some things you are unable or don't want to divulge rather than lying is far healthier for your relationship."

"I'll think about that." Harry promised, though he felt reluctance at the thought. "I really have to get going towards Defense now. I'll meet you at the Shrieking Shack with the potential Horcrux at six thirty."

"Very well. Harry- whatever you end up doing, I'm sure that your friends will stick by you. Try not to stress too much, okay?"

Harry thanked him, before departing in the direction of his least favorite class.

* * *

Nicolas whistled slightly as he picked up the old headdress. "Where did you find this, Harry? It's extremely old. I wouldn't be surprised if it had some historical value."

"In a secret room inside Hogwarts. It's called The Room of Requirement."

"And why did you go looking for this? What gave you the idea that it might be a Horcrux?"

"Voldemort showed it to me in a dream." Harry explained, blushing slightly, and not completely sure why.

"And did you only discover the existence of this room via the dream?" Nicolas inquired seriously, "Or were you aware of the room's existence before last night?"

"You think that it's just something I dreamt up?" Harry asked, "That this whole thing was invented by my subconscious, using already existing knowledge?"

"I don't know, Harry. Usually I would tell you to trust your instincts- if you felt that your dream wasn't just a dream but rather a vision you should go with your gut. On the other hand, it just doesn't make sense. I can't understand why Voldemort would go around showing you the location of old artifacts. Especially if your theory about this being a Horcrux of his is correct."

"I'm sure it wasn't just a dream." Harry replied, and told him of the morning's correspondence.

"That's extremely interesting." Nicolas said, once Harry was done. "Well, there's only one way to find out what this is." He waved his wand in a complex pattern, muttered something, and shook some salt onto the tiara, before muttering some more and jabbing the thing with his wand.

The tiara began to glow very faintly, and Nicolas reached out and touched it. "Oh, there's a soul in here, beyond a doubt, I can feel it- Oh!" and he jerked his hand away from the tiara as if he had been burned. He stared at the tiara aghast, his face pale.

"Nicolas?" Harry asked nervously, "What happened?"

"I felt it." Nicolas muttered "I felt the soul. Oh, Harry, it was awful! It's completely eaten up with hatred and fear, it's too broken to feel anything else. All it can feel is a constant, neverending coldness with no warmth of love or comfort. Only hate and fear, forever." There was moisture at the corner of his eyes as he spoke.

There was a faint sound of footsteps, and a split second later Perenelle rushed into the room. "What's wrong, darling? I felt something-" she shuddered "Oh, it was horrible! Are you alright?" She was caressing his cheeks as she looked into his eyes, as if searching for the answer in them.

"He felt Voldemort's soul piece." Harry told her helpfully, since Nicolas seemed slightly stunned and not especially inclined to speak.

"Oh." She breathed "So the emotions I felt- they belonged to the Horcrux. I knew logically, of course, that a soul split so many times would lose something- something critical, but I didn't fully grasp until now what it must be like, just how horrible it was."

Her eyes, resting on Harry, softened. "And you, Harry, you have a constant connection with him. What was the momentary anguish that Nicolas and I experienced in comparison with the active link that you share with him?"

Harry shrugged. "It hasn't really been like that for me. Whenever my mind connects with his, my scar hurts too much for me to be able to concentrate on stuff like feelings and emotions." That appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as Perenelle's lips trembled slightly.

"It's really okay!" Harry hastened to reassure her, "Most of the time I don't feel much from our connection, and the last few times weren't as bad as what Nicolas described. I think that it's because the soul in me is the piece of Voldemort that knows love."

"Whereas I was sensing Voldemort's Horcrux." Nicolas completed Harry's thoughts and gestured to the headpiece.

Perenelle picked it up. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." She read, "Why does that sound familiar?"

Nicolas shrugged.

"Where did you find it, Harry, and how did you know what it was?" She asked.

Harry told her shortly about his dream.

"It just doesn't make any sense to me." Nicolas frowned "The Voldemort I had met in the Ministry had shown himself to be utterly unrepentant about his deeds, and had you asked me yesterday, I would have told you that he has absolutely no desire to be mortal once more. So why would he reveal the location of his Horcrux to Harry?"

Harry had been pondering this himself, and had a reply. "I think that it's the piece of soul inside of me that brought it about. We already talked about how, because the spell that caused Voldemort's soul to break was deflected by a love shield rather than used as part of a dark ritual, the nature of the split was different than that of a Horcrux. It makes sense that the spell targeted the piece of Voldemort's soul that knows love, and that that's the piece that's inside me now. It explains why the soul piece doesn't seem malevolent, and why it's never tried to possess me. If it is indeed the piece of Voldemort that had remained good, wouldn't it make sense that that part of him would be hoping for Voldemort to be cured and for his Horcruxes to be destroyed?"

"But you got a letter from the actual Voldemort." Nicolas protested, "So it wasn't your soul piece in the dream, it was the main soul of Voldemort."

Harry shrugged. "Voldemort was aware of the dream on some level, but maybe he wasn't the one controlling it. Maybe the Horcrux in me managed to shape the dream the way he wanted it to go."

"It makes sense." Perenelle joined in, in support of Harry.

"It does. Of course the soul piece inside Harry would hope for Voldemort to be cured and mortal, the current state of Voldemort's soul is so absolutely horrifying, heartbreaking. If that's the piece of soul that knows the value of love, of course it would use whatever limited means it had to try and cure Voldemort." Nicolas shuddered again at the memory of the dark emotions he had experienced via the Horcrux.

Perhaps, Harry mused, Nicolas and Perenelle had been happily and easily in love for too long, if something as minor as dark and negative emotions were enough to shake them to such an extent.

Harry thought that it would take far more than hatred and fear to scare him off.

* * *

Harry held the burnt husk of what had once been Voldemort's Horcrux in his hand as he returned to Hogwarts, half an hour before curfew.

Perenelle had said that it was a real shame to burn such an interesting old relic as the tiara had been, but Nicolas could think of no way but Fiendfyre to destroy the Horcrux.

Harry didn't know what had made him, once the Horcrux was purged, pick the burnt shell up and take it with him, but it just seemed too significant- historically and emotionally to simply throw in the bin, which is what Nicolas and Perenelle had seemed inclined to do. Tossing it in the bin was, Harry had to admit, a far more reasonable course of action, but the thought of the object that was important enough to Voldemort to put his soul in being discarded with all the rubbish didn't sit well with Harry.

So there it was, dangling uselessly from Harry's hand. Harry wondered what he'd do with it. Probably stuff it in his messy trunk, which was chock full of both rubbish and items of sentimental value such as his photo album. Everything got stuffed in the trunk, which, had it not been charmed by Harry some years ago, would probably have been incredibly heavy.

He had almost reached the portrait of the Fat Lady when a wave of agonizing pain hit him, and he collapsed to the ground with a cry.

He was standing in a darkened room, which the sink in front of him indicated was a bathroom, and above the sink was a mirror. His face, which had once been a monstrous snake-like visage, was now pronouncedly more human. He looked far more like a gaunt and ill man than a monster. Skin which had once been chalk-white, unnaturally so, was now merely pale, like the skin of a man who hadn't been outside for a long time. He even had a nose, slight and unpronounced though it was.

The diadem! Potter! His dream-

For the second time that day, he felt overwhelmed by pure terror. His heart palpitated madly in his chest, and he felt his body shake all over. He wasn't sure if the shaking he felt was Voldemort's body, or that of Harry Potter, seized with a sudden vision, so it took a moment to realize that someone was physically shaking him away from the vision and back to the halls of Hogwarts.

"Harry! You're awake!" someone above him sighed in relief once Harry opened his eyes. He looked up, and groaned when he saw that the speaker was Colin Creevey.

"I heard a sound and I came to look, and then I saw you lying on the floor and you were shaking. It looked really scary, like you were possessed or something. I took a picture- see? Pretty creepy, huh? You look almost crazy in this one. Hey, remember when last year everyone thought you were crazy? Was it because you did things like this? When you fainted right now, Did you see Voldemort? Did you do it to get attention? Did-"

"Colin," Harry groaned "please be quiet for a minute. I just have a bad migraine, and want to go to bed."

"Oh!" breathed Colin, his mouth opening in comprehension, "Migraines are the worst! My mom gets them sometimes, and whenever she does she says that I need to be to stop talking and be super quiet, because the noise of me just makes it worse. Don't worry, Harry, I know exactly how important it is to be quiet when someone else has a migraine, so I'll be really careful not to talk. Except for the necessary minimum. You know, like saying the password to the Fat Lady, and telling you good night once we part ways, and explaining all this to you now."

Harry grunted, but said nothing else while Colin prattled on. Voldemort knew that Harry had destroyed the Horcrux. What would he do now? Would he somehow find a way to block himself from dreaming of Harry again? The thought distressed Harry.

He hoped that whatever Voldemort decided to do, it wouldn't be that. Or creating a new Horcrux as a counter to the one Harry destroyed! If he created a new Horcrux every time Harry destroyed an old one, there was no way Harry would ever be able to defeat him. Or fix his soul. Harry still wasn't completely sure which of the two he was supposed to accomplish.

He waved Colin a distracted goodbye, and headed up to his dormitory where he mumbled something about being tired to Ron before getting into bed and pulling the hangings closed after him. By now, Harry could no longer feel any emotions from Voldemort, and as he lay in his bed, he wondered desperately what the other wizard was thinking.

He didn't have to wonder long. The second Harry fell asleep, he found himself dreaming of Voldemort. They were walking down the streets of a quiet village. It wasn't a very affluent place in appearance, and there was something about it that Harry could only classify as an 'old-timey feel'. Perhaps it was the old fashioned design of the automobiles as well as their sparsity, or the way the women walking past them on the street were dressed- not a pair of trousers in sight, but Harry felt displaced in time as he walked beside Voldemort.

Voldemort, who looked the same as he had in Harry's vision that evening, was allowing Harry quiet as he contemplated his surroundings, but there was no doubt that his full attention was focused on Harry. He was blatantly scrutinizing Harry's face, which made Harry feel awkward and self conscious as he looked around him. Finally, Voldemort appeared satisfied with Harry's examination of the area, because he gently took Harry's hand and began pulling him along, as he had the night before.

Their destination appeared to be a bit of a ways off, and as they walked on, Voldemort began talking to him. "You're a good person, Potter. I don't know as much about you as I probably should, but I know enough of you to know that you are kind. Please don't destroy me. I beg of you- I want to live, more than anything. You obviously know about my Horcruxes, you somehow know what they are. I realized that- in order to destroy my Horcrux in such a short amount of time, you must have some knowledge pertaining to the nature of Horcruxes and their very specific methods of destruction. Dumbledore probably told you, I guess, or maybe you found out some other way. In any case, if you know about them, you must know, must be aware of just how much I don't want to die. Please don't kill me-"

Harry interrupted, "If you're so scared that I'll destroy all of your Horcruxes, why did you show me the location of the diadem? You put it in my hand in the dream."

Voldemort considered the question for a moment. "I don't feel the same in my dreams as I do in reality. In the last dream, I wanted to give you my Horcrux, I was scared of doing it, but I wanted to. This dream, again, I want to show you the location of the Horcrux I'm taking you to now. I'm still terrified of death, and I still want to live, but at the same time- I want to show you the Horcrux. I can assure you that I will not feel that way once I wake up.

"In my dreams, it's almost like I am a different person. Not just in terms of my desires, but in my most essential being. It feels like some big part of myself that I lost years ago has suddenly been found again. I feel more- tender than I've felt for years, maybe ever, but better too, more peaceful. Disgustingly human." He said 'human' deprecatingly, as if it were a shameful confession.

His words confirmed Harry's theory that the piece of soul inside Harry was exerting its influence on Voldemort, thus causing him to reveal his Horcruxes. He smiled slightly in triumph.

Voldemort wasn't looking at Harry, though, his eyes were on the ground as he continued talking. "I knew that in our real lives, where we are enemies, there would be no reason for you to listen to my pleas and cease your attempt to kill me, but in our dreams, there's kinship between us, Harry. I remember the first dream, the one in my room at the orphanage, and I know you feel the same connection to me as I do to you when we are in this state. Perhaps you too wake up from these dreams, confused. Not understanding why you took my hand and talked to me and listened to me, anymore than I understand when I wake up why every action that, in my dreams feels natural and right, once I wake up makes me feel puzzled and scared and angry. Or perhaps I'm wrong and you understand more than me. Perhaps even if we did meet in real life you would allow me to take your hand and lead you down the halls of Hogwarts or the streets of Little Hangleton. In any case, I know that in these dreams you feel the kinship towards me that I feel towards you, so I have to try to convince you not to kill me while we're here together."

Voldemort's words struck a chord in Harry, and he silently swore he would help the soul of Tom Riddle become whole once again. He was already one step closer in his quest- Tom's mention of Little Hangleton was enough for Harry to figure out where the next Horcrux was hidden. "You don't need to worry about me killing you." he told Voldemort, "I can't while you soul isn't whole."

"I don't need to worry about it now, perhaps, but what if I keep showing you the Horcruxes every time I go to sleep? What if you destroy them one by one until I'm mortal again?"

"Even if that were to happen you would be in no danger of dying." Harry told him, thinking about the remaining soul piece inside of him. He didn't bother elaborating his words, though. Perhaps it was because while he trusted this dream Voldemort, the version of him that was joined with Harry's soul piece, he was wary of the Voldemort who would wake up in the morning remembering the dream- the cruel and murderous one. Perhaps it was because he enjoyed being the one who held all the cards for once, while Voldemort floundered around in the dark, confused- a fitting punishment for Harry's shock last year when his name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire.

Voldemort groaned. "Please don't tell me you've picked up the nasty habit of speaking in riddles instead of saying what you mean."

Fitting punishment, Harry reminded himself, and instead of explaining his words, simply said: "If it helps, I don't want you dead in real life any more than I do in this dream."

Voldemort stopped and scrutinized Harry's face. "I don't know if I believe you. In any case, it doesn't matter. We're here." He pointed a long arm, that wasn't as thin and pale as it had been only a night before, to point at a dilapidated shack that Harry recognized from Bob Ogden's memory as the Gaunt home, though Voldemort had no way of knowing that he'd seen it before. "The Horcrux is in there. It's hidden under the floorboards in a golden box. Be very careful not to touch it, and especially not to put it on- it's cursed." He shook his head ruefully, "It would have been wiser of me not to warn you about the curse, of course, but my actions here aren't comprehensible, even to myself. Goodbye, Harry, I'll probably see you again sometime soon."

He walked away, and Harry stared at his retreating back feeling the pang of his absence until he faded from sight.

Walking on carefully, Harry entered the shack through the decaying wooden door, and pulled at a few rotten floorboards until he found the box he was searching for. Acting instinctively, his hissed _open_ at it in Parseltongue, and it fell open, revealing the Horcrux inside.

Harry picked the ring up, and examined it against the light, recognizing it at once as the ring Dumbledore had been wearing on his burnt hand since the beginning of term.

* * *

"It all makes sense now!" Harry explained excitedly to Nicolas. "Why Dumbledore showed me that memory of the Gaunt shack, even though it appeared completely irrelevant to defeating Voldemort, why his hand is burned and useless, even why Voldemort seemed more human in the last couple couple of dreams than he did in the Department of Mysteries!

"Dumbledore found the ring Horcrux over the summer and destroyed it, only he got hit by the curse on the ring in the process. And he's trying to teach me about the Horcruxes, which is why he's showing me all those stupid memories! I'm not sure why he didn't just tell me about them," here Harry faltered for a minute in his explanation, "maybe he thinks I should figure it out for myself or something. Maybe that's part of going by the prophecy as far as he's concerned, coming to the right conclusions on my own. Anyways, it all fits!"

"Splendidly deduced, Harry!" Nicolas smiled at him, "I really do think you've got the truth of the situation. A bit unfortunate, though, that Voldemort showed you a Horcrux that was already destroyed in the first place. We can only hope that he will continue to reveal more Horcruxes before he starts studying Occlumency and learns how to close off your access to him in his dreams."

"I was thinking about that." Harry replied. "Do you think it will help if I let him know that there's a piece of his soul inside me?"

Nicolas considered the question for a long minute before replying. "I can't see any harm in letting him know about it, only good. Still, I don't know him enough to be certain what his reaction will be. What do you think?"

"I think the situation as it is now is working out well for us," Harry mused "so I don't want to disturb the status quo. If something changes, though, I'll definitely consider telling him. Maybe when enough of his Horcruxes are reabsorbed that there's a decent chance he'll use remorse to absorb the last soul piece- the one in me."

"A sound decision." Nicolas commended, "Just keep doing whatever it is you've been doing lately, and this will be a piece of cake."

Talk about jinxing things, Harry would think later.

* * *

It didn't take long for Harry to dream of Voldemort again- a little over a week, but it was long enough that Harry had begun to fear that Voldemort had found a way to block him out and would never again join him in his dreams.

In the dream, they were walking down Diagon Alley. It was sunny outside (though the sun was green), and rather pleasant.

"You know" Harry confessed, "I was almost afraid that the dream in Little Hangleton would be the last one, and that you'd have found a way to block me from your subconscious by now."

Voldemort sighed. "I did start working on learning Occlumency in the hopes of preventing you from entering my dreams again, but it hasn't been easy. My magical prowess lies in offensive spells. Defensive magics, on the other hand, have never been my forte. I'll admit that I'm struggling."

"I share you pain." Harry said sympathetically "I never could get Occlumency down either."

"Never?" Voldemort sounded positively indignant "Who said anything about never? You underestimate my talent, my stubbornness and my fear of you. I give it another month at the very most before these dreams come to an end!"

"You know, you could just not try to block me in the first place." Harry suggested "Since I have no intention of killing you, it's rather a waste of your time."

"Maybe if you're not planning on killing me you should stop destroying my Horcruxes." Voldemort retorted.

"I can't." Harry told him. "Not as long as there's a chance that restoring your soul will prevent you from killing or torturing any more people."

A shudder ran through Voldemort's frame when Harry mentioned killing and torturing. Was this progress? Was the fact that Voldemort felt revulsion at the mention of his heinous deeds a sign that he was slowly becoming human once more? And if that was the case, Harry mused, how would it feel for him to recall his previous actions when he was capable of feeling compassion once again? Extremely painful probably. Harry sighed.

"I know what you're thinking." There was bitterness in Voldemort's tone, "You look at me and you see who I am and what I've done with myself, and you think that I've wasted my life. You think I could have done great things without becoming Lord Voldemort, and I threw it all away for the sake of power and cruelty."

Though there was truth to that assessment, that wasn't where Harry's thoughts had been at that moment. He wondered if Voldemort was projecting his own repressed feelings onto Harry. "I don't think you threw everything away," he told Voldemort "I think there's still a chance for you to be great. That's the reason I'm doing this."

Voldemort, who had been walking alongside Harry up until this point, now took Harry's elbow and steered him into Gringotts.

"Oh no." Harry said, comprehension dawning.

"Oh yes." Voldemort said smugly "I'd like to see you try to get at this Horcrux."

"You would." Harry retorted, as they entered a Gringotts cart that began zooming along the stone corridor "Or you wouldn't be showing me this."

Voldemort didn't appear to have a good answer to that one, because he remained silent as they zoomed past flickering torches, a waterfall, and a dragon (which Harry had to wonder if actually existed, or was a result of his subconscious recollection of Hagrid's talk of dragons the very first time he went to Gringotts) until they reached a hollow cavern that seemed to contain the deepest vaults in the bank.

"The Lestrange family vault." Voldemort announced, opening the wooden door and waiting for Harry to walk through. He reached out his hand to point at a goblet, situated a few feet above them. "See that? That goblet belonged to Helga Hufflepuff herself. It was the fifth Horcrux I made." He concluded pensively.

"Dear Merlin, how many Horcruxes do you have?" Harry asked, horrified by the thought of just how much Voldemort had damaged himself.

"I made one more after this one." Voldemort replied hesitantly.

And another unintentional one after that, Harry thought. A soul broken 7 times over. It was almost inconceivable. "Weren't you in incredible pain?" he asked.

"At first I was," Voldemort replied, "but as I made more and more Horcruxes, the pain became more and more distant from me, until I could hardly feel it at all. It's starting to come back now, though." He said, looking Harry in the eye.

"Maybe one day, you'll be able to heal the pain instead of running away from it." Harry suggested.

Voldemort closed his eyes. "Maybe."

* * *

End chapter.

Thank you Cynthia, for catching my spelling and grammar errors, and thank you to all the wonderful people who reviewed!


	6. The Horcrux Hunt

**Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls**

 **Part II: Dreams**

 **Chapter Six: The Horcrux Hunt**

"So, what's the plan?" Harry asked, sitting down at the table with Nicolas and Perenelle. "I almost lost hope when I saw where the latest Horcrux is hidden, so I was really relieved when you called to tell me that you have a plan for getting at it. I guess if anyone could do it, it would be you two."

"Well, our use of the word _plan_ may not have been entirely accurate." Nicolas confessed.

"Nicolas and I have a slight disagreement over the best way to break into Gringotts, so a more accurate term may be _plans-_ in the plural _."_

 _"_ You can be the tiebreaker, Harry." Nicolas decided, "Perenelle will tell you her plan, and then I'll tell you mine, and you can decide which you like the best."

Harry nodded hesitantly, though he was unsure if he was qualified to be the decision maker in the subject of robbing banks.

"Now, let me start by updating you on the progress we've made so far. We have visited the bank recently as belligerent customers, concerned for the security of their vault. After all, the only vault ever successfully broken into at Gringotts belonged to us. It would be perfectly reasonable for us to begin worrying for the security of our money.

"Our first order of business was discovering how Voldemort had succeeded in breaking into Gringotts, since we hoped we could copy the method. It seemed silly to invent the wheel when someone had already done it successfully before us. The goblins are very non cooperative usually, but when we brought up the fact that a vault of ours was broken into before, and began listing the reasons we were scared for the safety of our money at Gringotts, they became rather less recalcitrant to help us than they would be otherwise."

"Nicolas is being very delicate with his phrasing, Harry" Perenelle interrupted, "The truth was that I threw a tantrum of epic proportions. I shouted about what a disgraceful and unprofessional establishment Gringotts is, and threatened to sue Gringotts as well as the whole goblin race for failing to guard my vault properly."

"It was really impressive!" Nicolas told Harry, "The goblins always make sure to put the meanest and ugliest goblin they can find in customer service, and Rockwart was about three times Perenelle's girth, and he was carrying an ax on him, but after Perenelle shouted for a bit, he started grumbling about getting the point, and there being no need to shout, and gave us the information we wanted. Which, actually, turned out to be completely useless in retrospect."

"Not completely!" Perenelle hurriedly interjected, "While Voldemort's method of breaking in involved some red lines I am unwilling to cross, such as the Imperius Curse, it did give me an idea: A strong enough Confundus hex could serve as a substitute for a limited amount of time."

Nicolas rolled his eyes. "I've said it before, but I'll say it again for Harry's benefit: If the Confundus worked on goblins, there would have been far more than one successful break in at Gringotts. Anyone could confund the goblin into thinking they were a Malfoy, and would be let into what is probably the most loaded vault in all of Gringotts!"

"Stop biasing Harry against my plan before he's even heard it!" Perenelle complained, "Give him a chance to hear everything first."

"Alright then." Nicolas replied, "After that, I insisted on our vault being transferred to a higher security location. We had a standard vault before, but I demanded one that would, in addition, be protected by a dragon, as well as a few other security measures that they will activate should they suspect a break-in attempt. Germino and Flagrante Curses, as well as something called The Thief's Downfall. Now, this would place the vault at the deepest part of the bank. The Lestrange vault should be in the immediate area, since there aren't many vaults there. Few people are paranoid enough about theft to keep their money in that part of the bank. Having a vault there is basically like having your money stolen anyways, since there's no other word for the prices the goblins charge for those locations than daylight robbery. And we don't really have a Philosopher's Stone, you know, so our money isn't unlimited- but I digress. The point of the move was that finding the Lestrange vault with our new vault as a starting point shouldn't be too difficult."

"Which brings me to my plan!" Perenelle interjected, "We casually stroll into Gringotts and ask to be taken to our vault. Once we are past the dragon we confund the goblin with us into believing we need to be taken into the Lestrange vault instead of the Flamel one. And if the Confundus ends up not working on Goblins," she hurried to add, once she saw Nicolas opening his mouth, "we overpower the Goblin, handcuff them, and press their hand to the door once we find the right vault."

"The result of which, is, of course, that they'll know that it was us who broke into the vault, and try to arrest us." Nicolas concluded.

"Not necessarily!" Perenelle insisted, "Depending on how smoothly the operation goes, only one goblin would know about the break in, and one goblin is easy to obliviate. Anyways, the worst case scenario is that we can go on the run."

"I don't want to go on the run." Nicolas said.

"Come on, it'll be an adventure! Don't you remember how much fun we had last time?"

"I fear that in the three hundred years since that incident, your memory of the ordeal has become rather romanticized. We spent far more time scavenging for food, and far less time making love under the stars than you tend to recall." Nicolas said drily. "And in any case, my idea is quite good, so there's really no need!

"Listen up, Harry. I go to the vault, withdraw some coins, and while I'm there, leave a tracking device behind. Nothing too sophisticated, it just transmits its location every couple of seconds. Once we have the location, in the dead of night, we sneak over to the place on the ground that is right above the vault, and start drilling. I'll be using magic, so it shouldn't take too long to reach our vault, and then we'll be free to wander around undetected, get the cup, and get out of that place with no one the wiser."

"Darling, I keep telling you, the Gringotts vaults are far too deep below ground to receive GPS signals." Perenelle said, exasperation in her voice.

"Come, Perenelle, you're brilliant at these things. Couldn't you fashion something that works in the same way, only amplify the signal somehow with magic so that it could reach us even underground?"

"Well, I suppose I could get some ideas from the magical radio that's come out recently." Perenelle admitted, "And I have been dying to take that radio apart ever since you got it. Still, there are just so many things that could go wrong with the plan. What if it turns out that our vault is right under the Tower of London, or worse- the Thames? How are we supposed to drill under there?"

"Can't we just give it a try?" Nicolas begged, "I really don't want to go on the run again. I really love this house, and the Carob tree I planted all those years ago was finally beginning to bear fruit!"

Perenelle sighed. "I just get the notion that it would be a waste of time. Even if we do get into our vault through drilling, how do we leave the vault without a goblin there to open it for us?"

"Dynamite or something." Nicolas replied quickly. "We'll think of something. You know they never guard against muggles means of destruction."

"It couldn't hurt to try, could it?" Harry added, in support of Nicolas, "I really don't want you two to need to go on the run on my account."

"Even if that would happen, it wouldn't be on your account!" said Nicolas hastily. "It would be for the sake of muggle as well as magical Britain, and perhaps for the soul of one Tom Riddle. You, however, are the last person who would be to blame!"

"Regardless." Harry said firmly, "I'd rather we first tried the option that puts you at less risk."

"Very well." Perenelle complied, "I'll give it a try, but I make you no promises."

* * *

There had been no reason for Perenelle to doubt herself. It was less than three weeks after the initial meeting when Harry received an owl instructing him to meet Nicolas at the Shrieking Shack that evening, for the execution of their plan.

Once Nicolas had apparated Harry to the Flamel home, he left in order to place the tracker in Gringotts, Perenelle's invention in hand. Harry realized that he wasn't really needed for this part of the plan, and he appreciated the fact that the couple were making an effort to keep him in the loop.

While they waited for Nicolas to arrive at the vault, Perenelle explained to Harry how the system worked. It took more work than Harry had realized, but the end result would allow them to know the exact location of the device.

Harry was very impressed by Perenelle's knowledge of muggle technology when she explained the idea behind the GPS, and he told her so.

"It was Nicolas I have to thank for getting me involved in the wonders of muggle science." She told him. "You'd think it would be me, what with being a squib and all, but I was quite immersed in a new finding in Potions, which he personally finds boring, when he decided to start learning Muggle Studies.

"Many wizards, when studying the subject, tend to approach the subject with an attitude of: 'Those cute muggles! Look at all the trouble they have to go through to accomplish something that we magic users can do in 3 seconds flat!'. It's such a shame, because the amount of genius and innovation that is put into muggle technology is truly awe-inspiring. It's been a long time hobby for both Nicolas and I for a while now."

Nicolas returned a few minutes after, proclaiming that he had placed Perenelle's invention in their vault. Perenelle turned to a computer, and then typed in some things that meant nothing to Harry. A few minutes later, she frowned. "It's giving me a location somewhere about halfway to outer space. This doesn't make any sense."

Nicolas frowned, and bent down to look at the screen over her shoulder. "Do you think maybe Gringotts has protections against this kind of technology?"

Perenelle snorted. "The Goblins are even more oblivious to the muggle world than wizards are, and this technology has only been available to the public for about a year. I find it hard to believe that they would have anticipated an attempt such as ours."

"Did you check it to see if it worked before you put it in Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Of course." Perenelle answered promptly "It got the location right when Nicolas put it in our house, in the Sherlock Holmes museum, and on the tube. There's something about this particular location that is causing it to fail."

"Perhaps Gringotts is too heavily steeped in enchantments for a muggle device to work there?" Nicolas suggested.

Perenelle shook her head. "I have no doubt it is, but I looked into the issue. If the device itself uses magic, its interaction with the magic becomes grounded and the ambient magic in the air can't confuse it. The device, much like a wizarding radio, incorporated magic into its make, and therefore should have worked just as well in a heavily magical area."

"So what could be different about Gringotts that would suddenly cause it to go off kilter?" Nicolas asked, frowning thoughtfully.

"Well, what about the space expansion charms?" Harry suggested, "they're probably not incorporated into the map you have. How do you take the extra distance the signal is traveling when it goes through Diagon Alley into account when Diagon Alley doesn't exist in the map the computer has?"

"You know, Harry, I think you may be on to something." Nicolas said, "What do you think, darling?" turning to Perenelle.

"While it's true that the map doesn't take the expanded area in the alleys into account, that amount of extra space isn't enough to account for the huge aberration I'm getting. The location should be a good ways under ground, not two hundred meters above us!"

Nicolas considered that for a moment. "True, but have you considered the fact that the expansion charms may cover far more than just the alleys? What about the expansion magic on the Gringotts tunnels themselves? Who knows how small a space all those extensive tunnels are actually condensed into?"

After considering that for a moment, Perenelle broke out in a smile. "Yes, that would explain everything! It's possible that no matter how far away you travel while inside the tunnels, because of the expansion charms, you'd still be directly under Gringotts bank, that would certainly mess up the calculations. Brilliant deduction, my love! And you too Harry, of course." She added fondly, "I don't know if it would have occurred to either of us if you hadn't brought it up."

"Yes, drop the glum face, Harry! You solved the mystery!" Nicolas exclaimed, beaming at him.

"Well, yes, but now it means that your plan won't work, doesn't it? We'll need to break into Gringotts the other way,"

Nicolas's face fell. "Oh dear. I was so pleased with solving the mystery that I forgot all of that for a moment. No matter, though, Perenelle's plan was just as good."

"So it's plan B, then?" Harry asked.

* * *

"Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel." Nicolas said to the goblin at the counter, handing him a big silver key. "For our vault."

The Goblin narrowed his eyes at the pair suspiciously, and scrutinized the key carefully, but in the end sighed, and signaled another goblin over. "Urgok will take you to your vault."

Nicolas and Perenelle clambered into the Gringotts cart after the goblin, and Harry followed them in awkwardly, trying to avoid alerting the goblin to the presence of an invisible person who had climbed in after the couple. He stumbled over Perenelle's leg, narrowly swerved to avoid smacking into the Urgok, and fell into Nicolas's lap. Nicolas grunted, but other than that played off the incident as Harry squeezed into the space beside him.

They were descending further than Harry had ever gone before, gathering speed as they went, and Harry felt his stomach lurch when, what felt like miles into the ground, the cart suddenly jerked to a complete stop.

"Follow me." The goblin said curtly, and he climbed out, holding in his hand a leather bag that jangled when he walked.

They followed him, and Harry had to stifle a gasp as they rounded a corner and were greeted by the sight of an enormous dragon. It was barring access to five or six of the deepest vaults in the place, and was so big, that Harry honestly doubted it would have enough room to spread its wings, should it try. The dragon turned its huge head towards them, and the fear in Harry's heart was replaced by pity. The dragon's eyes were milky pink, and its face was covered by lacerations- deep, ugly, and doubtlessly painful.

The dragon opened its huge mouth, and Harry felt sure it was about to fry them all to a crisp, but it paused, mouth half open, when Urgok the goblin took a metal device out of his leather satchel. He shook it, and a ringing sound, like a hammer hitting an anvil, echoed through the chamber. The dragon retreated, emitting a sad sigh that sounded a bit like a whimper.

"It's learned to associate the sound of the Clankers with pain." Urgok said, a nasty grin on his face, "See those scratches on its face? Hot swords." Harry begun to wonder if, in addition to stealing the goblet, they could steal the dragon as well.

As the dragon retreated, clearing the way to the deepest vaults, Urgok began leading them towards the closest vault to them.

Harry saw Nicolas's wand appear in his hand, and a second later the goblin's eyes took on a rather dazed sheen.

"Excuse me," Nicolas said gently, "you must be a little confused, we need to be taken to the Lestrange vault."

"Not..." the goblin muttered, eyes crossing slightly "Not Flamel?"

"No, no Lestrange." Nicolas assured him, and guided him gently by the elbow further in. The goblin dazedly pressed his hand over the right door and it dissolved.

"Could've... Could've sworn it was Flamel." Urgok muttered, stumbling slightly.

"My dear sir!" Nicolas exclaimed, catching him before he had a chance to fall, "You don't look so good. Why don't you sit out here and rest while we conclude our business?"

The goblin nodded faintly, and allowed Nicolas to guide him down to sit on the floor as Perenelle entered the vault, Harry behind her.

When they walked farther into the vault and out of the goblin's sight, Harry removed his invisibility cloak.

Nicolas entered the vault behind Harry, glancing back worriedly. "I think that the Confundus I hit him with was a bit too strong." He said, "Urgok looked positively drunk. He bumped his head hard against the cavern wall when I tried to help him sit."

"Good." Harry said with vicious satisfaction, "he deserves it. Did you see how smug he looked when he talked about torturing that dragon?"

"I wouldn't have taken you for a dragon lover, Harry." Nicolas mused, "Not after your experience in the Triwizard Tournament last year."

"I'm not especially." Harry agreed, thinking of Norbert, "but no one and no thing deserves to be shut up in a small place and tortured. I nearly went insane after three weeks of being locked in a cramped room, and I could stretch out more than that dragon could."

"When were you shut up in a cramped room for three weeks?" Nicolas asked tensely.

"Well, I had accidentally let a snake out of its cage at the zoo when I visited there with my muggle family, so that was my punishment." Harry explained, "My aunt and uncle are bastards."

"Well, Harry," Perenelle said, and there was a harshness to her voice, "I'm sure they'll get what's coming to them sooner or later." There was a strange glint in her eye that Harry had never seen before. "Probably sooner."

Nicolas nodded along, giving Harry a piercing look.

Feeling slightly nervous, and a bit embarrassed over the attention the couple's anger on his behalf, Harry distracted them all by bringing them back to the purpose for which they had come. "There it is." He said, pointing to the goblet that Voldemort had showed him, perched up high on a mountain of coins. "That's Horcrux number five according to him."

"Right," said Nicolas, finally unclenching his jaw, "I'm the tallest of us, so I should be the one to climb up and get it."

He placed his boot on a heap of coins, but when he reached for a nearby helmet on a shelf to hoist himself up, he sprang back with a cry of pain and alarm. He withdrew his hand, which was burned, and Harry watched in dread as the helmet began multiplying. The shelf was too big to accommodate all the new helmets, and Perenelle quickly pulled Harry out of the way as three or four of them crashed down to where Harry's head had been seconds ago.

"The Flagrante and Germino Curses!" Perenelle spat, glaring at the goblin made helmet "Everything you touch will burn you and multiply until you are crushed under the weight of burning metal. They've activated their anti-thief defenses."

"How would they know, though?" Nicolas asked, "They didn't know anything was going on before, or the defenses would've been activated earlier and we would have encountered The Thief's Downfall. They must have only activated their anti-robbery measures in the past 5 minutes, but what could have clued them in?"

"The Confundus spell?" Harry suggested, "Perenelle was right when she said that if the Confundus was enough to rob a bank everyone would do it. It's just too easy. I bet there's a security mechanism that can detect spells such as those, and informs the goblins that something of the sort has been cast."

Perenelle nodded. "They're probably coming after us as we speak."

"So what do we do?" Nicolas asked, beginning to pace, but stopping after accidentally brushing against a coin and causing it to duplicate.

"First thing's first we get what we came here for." Perenelle said firmly, "Nicolas, levitate me up towards the location of the goblet. And for Merlin's sake, love, try to avoid bumping me up against anything here."

"Of course, darling." Nicolas complied, and he tapped her hands with his wand. Black gloves covered the thin hands, protecting them from being burned once the goblet was seized, and she smiled at Nicolas in gratitude.

Levitation charms were meant to be applied to lighter subjects, such as feathers, and though Perenelle was a rather slight person, the spell was still obviously straining Nicolas. She wobbled precariously in the air, deftly bending back at the last second to avoid knocking into a nearby shelf, and was finally near enough to grab the goblet with her gloved hands.

Nicolas lowered her gently down, and they all sighed in relief when the operation was complete with no more duplications caused.

"Now, how do we get out without being caught by the goblins?" Harry questioned.

"Well, the plan to drill down from the surface to here didn't work out," Perenelle said, "but I see no reason that it shouldn't work the other way around. It would draw a lot of attention, but we're already basically caught at this point, so there's no need to be inconspicuous."

"What, just blast a hole from here to the top?" Nicolas asked "There must be a safer and less dramatic way to do things, and anyways, how would we fly up? I see no brooms here."

"We fly the dragon!" Harry explained, catching Perenelle's eye and grinning.

Nicolas's gaze moved from Harry to Perenelle and back again. "You're both crazy."

Perenelle sniffed in annoyance. "Well, judging by the amount of time it took us to get down here, and the amount of time that has passed since you cast the Confundus Curse, the goblins should be here within three minutes, so unless you can come up with a better plan by then, that's what we'll be doing."

He didn't appear to have a better plan, because he followed Perenelle and Harry out of the cavern and stunned the still dazed Urgok on the way out. The dragon had its back to the vaults and was once again facing the passageway and Harry shot some birds out of his wand to distract it while they clambered on its back. The dragon twitched a bit, as if it had an itch, but didn't react any further.

"Alright," Nicolas instructed once they were all awkwardly seated, and fastened to the dragon with a sticking charm "Harry, sever the dragon's chains while I clear our path to the top."

Harry did as instructed, as Nicolas waved his wand and what looked like a huge translucent white canopy formed above them. Seconds later there was a tremendous rumbling sound, and big chunks of rock began raining down on them, bouncing off the white shield that Nicolas had erected. The agitated dragon gave an ear-splitting roar, angling its head up at the ceiling where the rubble was still falling down. It began flapping its wings and stomping its feet, still angrily screeching.

Three things seemed to happen simultaneously at that moment: A group of goblins wielding axes and swords rounded the corner hollering angrily, the dust and rocks settled enough for Nicolas's newly hewn tunnel leading up to the surface to be revealed, and the dragon appeared to realize it was no longer chained.

It seemed to Harry as if everything froze for a moment, and then the dragon took off with an almighty below as the goblins began running towards them, shouting war cries and waving their swords. It was too late, though, the dragon was already far over their heads. They were now so close to the surface that Harry could feel a blast of cold wind from above him, and a second later he was staring at Diagon and Knockturn Alleys from above as the dragon flew off into the starry night.

Harry felt his heart swell with triumph. They had rescued a piece of Tom Riddle's soul, gotten away unscathed, and liberated a dragon in the process. This was worth missing a night's sleep for, even if it did potentially mean that he might have missed a dream with Voldemort.

He shivered a bit at the cold as the dragon climbed higher, and Nicolas put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, Perenelle, grab onto me tight. I'm apparating us home."


	7. The Meeting

**Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls**

 **Part III: Soulcrux**

 **Chapter Seven: The Meeting**

Voldemort found Harry in his dreams the night after Nicolas destroyed the goblet Horcrux. Harry received quite a shock when he looked at him. The reabsorption of the goblet Horcrux had affected his looks, and with his nose back in place and his cheeks filled out he looked incredibly handsome.

"I've been looking for you." he said, much to Harry's surprise. "I wasn't sure if I'd be able to dream of you just by wanting to, but it seemed to work."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I thought you were doing your best to avoid dreaming of me. What changed?"

"The goblet was the Horcrux that I thought was best protected of all. The fact that you managed to get at it, and escape riding on the back of a dragon, no less, made me realize that I had underestimated your abilities, and perhaps I would be better served in changing my tactics."

"So you've decided you want to help me find your Horcruxes now?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No, don't be ridiculous. I still can't help showing you my Horcruxes when we meet in our dreams, but that wasn't the reason I searched you out tonight. I wanted to request a meeting with you. A waking meeting, not a dream one."

"Why should I want to do that? Why would you want to do that?"

"I think we can work out a deal between us." Voldemort said, "You're obviously more of the threat to me than I first anticipated, so I want to negotiate."

"How do I know you won't just kill me when I show up?" Harry asked, indignant that Voldemort would think he was thick enough to fall for something like that.

"If that was what I was planning, I would never ask you to meet me in our dreams." Voldemort said, sounding slightly insulted, "Haven't I always helped you and protected you when I was in this state? Didn't I warn you about the curse on the ring when I showed you that Horcrux? If I thought it would lead you to harm, I wouldn't ask you to meet when I was in my dreams, I'd send you an owl, but I sincerely do want to just meet."

There was truth in that statement, Harry thought, and it occurred to him that even if Voldemort did change his mind and decide to kill him he would simply tell him about the seventh piece of soul- the one that was inside Harry. Harry was pretty sure that would stop Voldemort if it came down to it.

"Alright." he said, "I'll have the easiest time sneaking out during the weekend, so we can meet up on Saturday. Where would we meet, though?"

"I'll send you a portkey by house-elf." Voldemort told him. "Will it be alright if I set it off to activate at five p.m.?"

"No problem." Harry replied.

"Alright, just make sure to be well outside Hogwarts' protections by then, or the portkey won't work. I've been informed by Severus that you're constantly being found in places you have no business being, so I'll assume you're up to the task of sneaking out of school unnoticed."

Harry noted that Voldemort's helpfulness extended beyond revealing Horcrux locations to revealing spies. Of course, Harry already knew of Snape's supposed status as a 'double agent', but it was an interesting observation nevertheless.

"I don't think I'll need to leave Hogwarts in order for the Portkey to work." Harry told Voldemort, "You managed to portkey me out of there back in my fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament. Remember?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Harry, if Dumbledore hadn't put up anti-portkey protection on Hogwarts, why would we have gone through the trouble of entering you in the Triwizard Tournament and making sure that you would win? The anti-portkey and apparation protections were temporarily removed from the maze so that if one of the contestants was in danger, it would be possible to reach them right away."

"That actually makes far more sense." Harry conceded. "Alright, I'll make sure to be out of Hogwarts before five o'clock."

"Right then, It's settled. And now, I believe I still have a Horcrux to show you." Voldemort snapped his fingers, and they were suddenly standing on the edge of a cliff, jutting out into the ocean. The smell of salt was in the air, and cold water lapped at their feet.

He pointed to a craggy rock out in the ocean some metres away. "See that opening in the cliff over there?" It took Harry a moment to see it, what with the distance and the spray in his eyes, but he finally spotted it and nodded. "It is the opening of a tunnel that leads into a cave. There are anti-apparation spells on the cave, so normally you'd need to swim there. This is a dream, however, so I see no need for such unpleasantness."

A second later they were standing inside a large, dark cavern, ankle-deep in water. Tom pressed his finger into a jagged little outcropping in the rock, and pulled his hand away a second later, a single drop of blood blooming on his fingertip. He smeared it on a part of the cave wall that to Harry looked just the same as the rest of the cave, but the second the blood touched the rock an archway appeared in the wall. Walking through it, Harry found himself on the edge of a lake. It was too dark to see much, but a greenish glow that seemed to emanate from the centre of the lake cast a faint and eerie light on their surroundings.

"Call for a boat." Tom commanded, turning to look at Harry.

"Call for- oh," Harry said, realizing what Tom meant. He closed his eyes and pictured a boa constrictor- his favourite snake- and called "Boat!". With a rustling sound and a slight splash, a boat came rushing towards them, and a chain flung itself onto the land in front of Harry.

Voldemort picked the chain up, smiling smugly. "I see Draco was right about you being a Parselmouth."

"I knew he was a Death Eater!" Harry cried triumphantly. "My friends thought I was crazy, but I knew it!"

"Let's not talk about Death Eaters now," Voldemort's voice was tetchy, "this information is far more important than them." He gestured with his hand for Harry to climb into the boat. Once they were both in, the boat started moving of its own accord, sailing across the lake and towards the eerie green light at the centre. The boat was really too small to accommodate two people, and Harry was uncomfortably aware of Tom's thigh pressed up against his own.

With a soft bump they reached the island in the middle of the lake, and Tom scrambled out first. "Be very careful not to touch the water as you climb in and out of the boat." He told Harry, "Here, take my hand, the floor is a bit slippery, and you don't want to fall in. Trust me."

Harry looked towards the water as Tom pulled him to land, and thought he saw something pale at the bottom, but was pulled away before he could get a good look.

There was a stone pedestal in the center of the island, and on it was a bowl, from which the green light emanated. The bowl was filled with a green potion, which was the source of the light, and in the bottom of it sat a golden locket.

"You need to drink the potion to get through the Horcrux." Tom told him, gesturing at the locket. "There's no other way to reach the locket, but- Harry, don't drink the potion. Please. I'm not saying this now out of desire to protect my soul, I'm saying it for your sake. Don't drink the potion."

Harry didn't know what the potion was, though he was sure that it was utterly horrible, but though he didn't say anything to Tom, he thought that the retrieval of Tom's soul piece was more important than whatever would happen to himself. He nodded, though, when he saw Tom looking at him intently.

"Alright, then. Goodbye Harry." And Tom was gone.

* * *

With a pop, Harry and Nicolas appeared on the cliff Harry had seen in his dreams, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He had worried that the fact that Nicolas didn't know the place himself and was apparating to a location he had only seen in a memory, and a memory of a dream at that, would create problems, but Nicolas had pulled it off with ease.

"How good of a swimmer are you?" Nicolas asked Harry, looking hesitantly down at the churning water beneath them.

"Most of my experience with swimming mainly involves my cousin Dudley holding my head down under water at the local swimming pool until I managed to scramble away." Harry admitted "But I did a fairly decent job of it in the second task in the Triwizard Tournament, so I guess I'm okay."

"Your cousin held your head under water at the swimming pool?" Nicolas asked, his voice cold, "He's just as deserving of punishment as your aunt and uncle."

"Speaking of my aunt and uncle," Harry said, seizing the opportunity to address a subject that had been on his mind, "I got a very strange letter from my aunt the other day, and I was wondering if you had anything to do with it. It's silly, but I just couldn't think of anyone else who might be involved in such a blatant disregard of Dumbledore's instructions."

"What did the letter say?" Nicolas asked curiously.

"Just that I shouldn't bother returning to Privet Drive this summer and that alternate arrangements have been made."

"Ah yes," Nicolas said innocently, "I do have a hand in the matter. It occurred to Perenelle and I that you should spend the summer hols with us, or really, anyone you'd like who isn't your muggle family. So we dropped by at your aunt and uncle's place to inform them, and just in general pay our regards and express what we think of the familial affection you have received from them over the years. Really drive the point home, you know? Perenelle was magnificently successful at expressing just how displeased she was, it was very impressive."

"Are- are they okay?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Well, Harry, your aunt was capable, at the end of our visit, to hold a pen and write you a letter, so I wouldn't worry too much about her physical well being." Nicolas answered nonchalantly. "Now, are you going to jump in, or not?" And he dived into the frigid water, effectively ending the conversation.

It took them a few minutes to get into the cavern Harry had seen in the dream, and by the time they did, Harry's toes were so numb he thought that they would drop off.

"I n-n-need t-to smear my b-b-blood on there." Harry said through chattering teeth, pointing at the spot on the wall that Tom had shown him.

"This Voldemort character certainly doesn't bother making this a comfortable quest, does he?" Nicolas mused, shooting a warming spell at Harry.

"Well, to be fair, in the dream he was the one to cut himself in order to get into the cave." Harry said, defending the dream version of Voldemort.

"Did he really?" Nicolas asked. "He did it himself and spared you the pain? Tell me Harry, what do you make of this man? The version of him that you see in your dreams, I mean. The sane one."

Harry had been thinking a lot about the man in his dreams lately, so it didn't take him long to answer. "I really like him. Actually, I don't know if 'like' is quite the word. I feel a strong connection with him. We have so many things in common- Hogwarts was his first real home just like it was mine. I feel like he understands me, in a way no one else has before." Harry suddenly became aware of how much he was talking, and shut his mouth, blushing when Nicolas raised his eyebrows. "What do you make of him, Nicolas?" He asked.

"I don't really know." Nicolas confessed. "I haven't had the opportunity to meet his better self in my dreams like you had. I didn't even get to really see your memory of him, all you put in the memory you showed me was how the cliff looked so that I could apparate there. Urgh!"

While Harry had been distracted Nicolas had sliced his hand open.

"Nicolas!" Harry cried reprovingly, "I could have done that!"

"I think not." Nicolas replied. "Really, Harry, considering you are spending your summer vacation with me, one could argue that you're my ward. And what kind of guardian would I be if I allowed you to hurt yourself under my watch?"

Harry rolled his eyes as he entered the cave, though he was secretly quite touched.

Nicolas followed Harry as he called the boat, climbed into it, and climbed out at the island in the centre.

"That's the potion you need to drink in order to get through to the Horcrux." Harry explained, watching tensely as Nicolas examined the glowing concoction. Fearing that Nicolas would again decide to protect Harry and hurt himself instead, like he had with the blood at the entrance, Harry prepared to stop him should it look as though he intended to drink the potion.

Nicolas showed no intention of imbibing the potion though, he was waving his wand at it in strange patterns and muttering. Finally he straightened up and turned to Harry. "Your friend is a clever man."

"He's not my-" Harry began to protest, but Nicolas cut him off.

"I know, I was just teasing. Now, this potion can not be touched, vanished, summoned away, transfigured, or charmed. It can't be scooped up, but there is a built in exception for a cup, to allow the person to drink it, I suppose. I should be able to scoop it up with something like this-" He waved his wand and a large cup appeared in his hand.

The cup dipped easily into the potion and emerged brimming with phosphorescent liquid. Harry prepared to knock the cup out of Nicolas's hand, but instead of bringing the potion to his lips, Nicolas turned it over and spilled the potion on the floor. The second the liquid left Nicolas's conjured cup, it glowed bright for a second, before being sucked back into the stone bowl.

"Ah, yes," Nicolas sighed, "I did think that would have been a bit too obvious of a loophole for Voldemort to leave, but it was worth a try. Let's see if there are any other loopholes he may have overlooked."

Next, he tried putting the potion in his mouth and then spitting it out, but the second it left his mouth, it once again flew back into the bowl.

Attempt number three involved scooping up a goblet-full of potion, and then conjuring another cup. When Nicolas tried to fill the second cup with potion, though, it seemed to hit an invisible barrier. "A one cup only policy, is it?" Nicolas sighed, "Dear Merlin, I hope the next Horcrux is easier to get at. I wonder where it is. Have you had any more dreams of Mr. Riddle lately, Harry?"

Harry blushed deeply while shaking his head. The truth had been that he had dreamt of Tom just the previous night, but it hadn't been the sort of dream Nicolas was referring to. This dream had involved Harry waking up short of breath in sticky sheets, much to his embarrassment.

"Oh well," Nicolas sighed, "it's still no worse than the Gringotts Horcrux. The goblins still give me death glares every time I enter the bank. Not a very forgiving race, goblins."

"I still can't believe you got away with that." Harry said in awe. "How is it possible to escape Gringotts with stolen goods while riding on top of a dragon and not get arrested, or at least fined?"

"Claiming the Imperius might not be the newest trick in the book," Nicolas admitted, "but it gets the job done."

"I don't understand." Harry confessed, "How is it possible that all your charges can be drop the moment you claim Imperius? Don't they at least give you a truth serum of some sort to verify your claim?"

"Well yes, the standard process does involve questioning under Veritaserum to verify the Imperius claim," Nicolas explained "but all your really need is to grease a few palms, and suddenly everyone decides that your word is good enough and there's not need to waste precious potion on a clearly upstanding citizen who obviously would never have done any wrong of their own free will."

Harry snorted in disgust.

"Yes, yes, I know." Nicolas sighed, "It's a dirty system that needs to be uprooted, but I honestly hate politics way too much to ever be the one to do it. Now-" turning back to the pulsing green potion barring their way to the Horcrux, "What would happen if I conjured a cup big enough to get all of the potion out in one scoop? That should theoretically get all of the potion out of the way and clear the way to the Horcrux."

Unfortunately, though, when Nicolas managed to scoop the whole thing out, Harry's hand, that he reached in to try and pick up the Horcrux, seemed to hit an invisible barrier.

Nicolas sighed. "No, I guess he would have thought of that loophole. You must need to drink the potion in order for the protection to deactivate."

"What if we removed the potion from the island?" Harry asked, "Do you think from far away it would still be able to recognize if the potion was drunk or not?"

"It's worth a try." Nicolas agreed, but they found that the second they left the island holding the cup, the potion flew out of the cup and back into the stone cauldron.

"Maybe we've been approaching this the wrong way." Nicolas suggested, eyeing the cup shrewdly, "We've been trying to get at the Horcrux from above, when perhaps we should be trying to get at it from the bottom."

"You mean break the cauldron the potion is in?" Harry asked.

"It would be fairly easy to protect against," Nicolas admitted, "but the method is a bit roundabout. It's possible that it wouldn't have occurred to Voldemort to protect against it."

"It's worth a try." Harry said with a shrug, and sent a blasting curse towards the bowl. Nothing happened. He tried a few of the more advanced blasting curses he knew, the N.E.W.T level ones he had learned during the Triwizard Tournament, but to no avail.

"I think maybe we should just burn the locket while it's still kept inside the potion." Harry finally said. "If Fiendfyre can kill a Horcrux, I'm sure it can burn through some magical potion, can't it?"

"That depends on the nature of the potion," Nicolas told him, "and on the ingredients in it. Still, I see no harm in trying. I'll start preparing."

As Harry had learned, after viewing both the diadem and the goblet Horcruxes being destroyed by Nicolas's Fiendfyre, there were long and arduous safety procedures involved in using Fiendfyre. He began helping Nicolas carve the necessary runes around the stone basin they intended to burn. The next step was usually carving an artificial canal into the ground around the Horcrux and filling in with water, into which a specially made potion was added.

"Do you think we could forgo carving the water canal and just drop the potion straight into the lake surrounding the island?" Harry asked "It would save us some work."

Nicolas shook his head. "I have no idea what enchantments were cast on the water in this lake, or how they would react to the potion or the Fiendfyre, but I wouldn't rely on it being benevolent. We'll have to do it the hard way."

Using magic, it didn't take long to carve out a trench around the stone bowl that hosted the potion and the Horcrux, but they ran into problems when trying to fill it with water. Both Harry and Nicolas had pointed their wands and spoken the incantation " _Aguamenti!_ ". For a second, water streamed from their wands and into the trench, but a moment later it vanished. Harry tried again, but it was no use, the water vanished seconds after appearing.

"Another security measure he's placed on this island." Nicolas sighed, "He wants to force us into using the lake water."

"All the more reason not to." Harry said firmly, remembering Voldemort's severe warnings about touching the water.

"I agree." Nicolas sighed. "It appears we need to go back and bring some of our own water."

"How far out do you think we'll need to get until we can conjure our own water?" Harry asked worriedly "I really don't fancy another dip in the ocean quite yet."

Nicolas shrugged. "I don't know, but probably quite far. There would be no point in protecting an area from water conjuration, if a two minute walk is far enough to bypass the protection."

"Maybe we should come back some other time then." Harry suggested, "I can't be gone much longer from school without being missed."

"Very well. Shall we reconvene tomorrow? Same time, same place?"

"Actually, I have plans tomorrow." Harry admitted nervously.

"Do you, now?" Nicolas wriggled his eyebrows mischievously "A date?"

"Not exactly." Harry replied, "I have a meeting with Voldemort. In the dream where he showed me this place he asked me if we could meet up while we were awake to arrange a truce."

"He did? This is wonderful news! You could stop the war! Why are we bothering hunting Horcruxes? We can just get him to swear to stop killing people in exchange for leaving his soul alone!"

Harry shook his head. "We haven't come to any agreement yet. Anyways, I don't like the thought of just leaving his soul in its current state. I've seen what he could be like with his soul healed, and I want that potential to become reality, I want for him to become who he is in my dreams, because the person he is there deserves a chance to exist."

"Alright." Nicolas conceded, "If that's how you feel, we'll continue with the Horcrux hunt until you reach a final agreement with Voldemort. Would you like me to accompany you to this meeting?"

"No." Harry declined. "Thank you Nicolas, but I'm afraid he may feel threatened if I bring someone along. Better that it be just him and me. If I think I'm in any danger I'll tell him about me being a Horcrux. That should prevent him from harming me."

"Very well, but I'll work out some amulet to give you. Something that will alert me if you're in trouble and give me your location. Please, for my piece of mind."

"Of course." Harry agreed, "But, you know, I really think it's going to be alright."

* * *

Harry's fingers trembled as he clutched the old brass key that was going to transport him to Voldemort in a short hour.

The portkey had arrived the day before. It had been sitting on his bedside table when he went up to the dormitory after dinner. It had come with a simple note, written in familiar neat handwriting.

 _Tomorrow, 5 o'clock._

 _-V_

The key went into Harry's bag, along with a few dungbombs and a portable lake, in case Harry needed to clear the hallway around the statue of the one-eyed witch in a hurry.

Hidden under his invisibility cloak, Marauder's Map in hand, Harry creeped out of Gryffindor common room. Thankfully, the area surrounding the secret tunnel to Honeydukes was empty, and Harry was able to climb into the witch's hump and close the opening to the tunnel without anyone approaching. Once he was sure that he had walked far enough to be clear of the Hogwarts anti-portkey protections, Harry sat down and waited for the portkey to activate, heart thrumming, whether with fear or excitement, he wasn't sure.

The seconds creeped by towards the appointed hour, and at five on the dot, Harry felt a pull, and was whisked away in a whirl of colour.

Harry's first thought, when he landed on his bum in an old abandoned ruin of a building was that he had made a terrible mistake. Voldemort was towering over him, pale, snakelike and gaunt. He looked nothing like the handsome human he had begun to resemble in Harry's dreams. He resembled the Voldemort that appeared in Harry's nightmarish memories from the Little Hangleton graveyard, twisting his wand in long, thin fingers as Nagini slithered on the floor behind him.

Then Voldemort bent down, arm outstretched to help Harry up, and Harry felt the panic retreat as he grasped the warm hand and was pulled to his feet.

"You look different." Harry said accusingly, his heart still palpitating wildly in his chest, doubt still whirring in his mind.

"Ah, yes. An illusion for the sake of my followers." Voldemort flicked his wand, and the appearance-changing spells dropped.

Harry took him in. He didn't look so good. Not terrible like he had before- monstrous and frightening, but rather in the way humans looked when they were incredibly sick. His eyes were red with lack of sleep, and there were deep bags under them. He was also extremely thin, the gauntness of his cheeks and their pallor detracting from his natural good looks. It looked to Harry as if he had not slept or eaten for a few days.

"You look terrible." Harry said tactlessly.

Voldemort glared at him.

"Sorry." Harry said contritely "You still look much better than you did before. Anyways, what did you want to talk about?"

Voldemort opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and finally spoke. "Potter- Harry- you need to stop. I need for this to stop, I can't handle it anymore. I'm not just begging, I'll do anything. I'll make an Unbreakable Vow if that's what it takes- an Unbreakable Vow to never harm another muggle. I will, just stop going after my soul!"

He was willing to make an Unbreakable Vow to stop harming muggles? Harry felt himself gape. "You're not at all like how I remember you." He said, thinking of the last time he had seen Voldemort face to face, at the Ministry of Magic.

"Yes, well you certainly saw to that." Voldemort replied bitterly, running his hand through his hair in agitation.

That was probably true. With every Horcrux that Harry destroyed, Voldemort seemed to get closer and closer to who he really was. This Voldemort was extremely reminiscent of Voldemort as Harry had come to know him in his dreams, though there was a wildness to him that hadn't been present when he was being influenced by the soul shard in Harry. He failed to see why that was a bad thing.

"I don't know why you're so worried." Harry said honestly, "I already told you that I have no intention of killing you, and I know you have at least one more Horcrux that you haven't shown me yet. It's not like you're in danger of dying anytime soon."

"You think that's all this is?" Voldemort hissed at him, "You have no idea, no _concept_ of the agony you've put me in. You've destroyed so many Horcruxes- enough that I'm feeling things again. You brought back all the pain, Potter, all that pain I put so much effort into leaving behind and escaping, it's all come roaring back. And it's so hard to look at myself and see what I've become, what I've done to myself, but it would be so easy to do it all over again, because I don't want to feel anymore, it hurts too much. Maybe-" there was a manic gleam in his eyes, and they flashed red for a moment "maybe I should kill you. That would tear my soul up again, and it would be such poetic justice. After everything you caused me, for your death to be the thing that makes the pain stop."

"You don't want to do that." Harry said, as calmly as he was capable.

"And why not?" Voldemort snarled, though Harry noted he made no move to raise his wand.

"There's a piece of your soul in me." Harry replied. "I've already figured out that you don't know about it, but you accidentally made me into one of your Horcruxes the night your curse backfired."

"You-you're my Horcrux?" He stumbled back in shock. "It does make sense. How we can communicate through our dreams, the fact that sometimes I feel your emotions, how whenever I'm in your head I feel more complete- more whole and human. How could I have missed it?"

"So you don't want to kill me?" Harry asked hopefully.

Voldemort shook his head faintly. "That's what you meant when you said I have nothing to fear even if I do show you where all my Horcruxes are, isn't it? As long as you're alive I can't die- you can't kill me."

"Exactly." Harry stepped closer to Voldemort and spoke softly, trying to convey his earnestness in his voice. "So you see? You have nothing to fear from me. I'm not trying to kill you- I literally can't. I'm trying to help you."

"Help me?!" Voldemort spat, "Do you have any idea what you've done to me?"

"I know right now it feels like I made things worse for you," Harry said nervously, "but you need to know that what you're feeling now, all that pain, isn't normal. Emotional pain isn't supposed to feel so raw and all consuming all the time. The nature of emotional wounds is that they seem almost unbearable at the beginning, but that they are healed by care and helped by time. I know that every person is different and I can't know what's in your heart, but I do know this about Horcruxes: When you make a Horcrux, you capitalize on the wounds in your soul, and twist it apart. You prevent your soul from healing like it should have, and instead allow the wounds to fester purposefully. As a result, the pain you're in never goes away or becomes manageable, it's always at its worse. That's why you felt like you needed to make more and more Horcruxes until you stopped feeling anything.

"It doesn't have to be this way, though. I truly believe that if you brave this out- if you destroy the Horcruxes and try to heal the pain instead of harming yourself so much that you can't feel it anymore, it will get better. And in time you'll find, that along with all the pain you're now capable of feeling, you're also capable of feeling happiness and love."

Tom shook his head. "It's useless. I'm not capable of those things."

The fact that he believed that of himself made Harry's heart clench in his chest, but he wasn't giving up. "There's a reason you showed me your Horcruxes in our dreams. The part of you that's inside of me wants this for you- a complete recovery rather than numbness. That's why, when united with it, you wanted your Horcruxes gone and helped to destroy them, you know deep down that you're meant for love and that you can achieve happiness. It'll be a struggle, but I know that deep down you believe that your happiness is possible and worth the pain on the way- otherwise you never would have helped me find the Horcruxes. You just need to give yourself a chance to heal."

There was a long silence as Tom contemplated his words. Finally, he spoke. "You'll help me?"

"I promise." Harry said earnestly.

"Alright." Tom looked up at Harry, and there was a fire and determination in his eyes that warmed Harry through.

"So, you told me you made six Horcruxes. You probably already know about what happened with the diary," Tom nodded in acknowledgement, "and you've showed me the diadem, the ring, the cup and the locket, that leaves one more Horcrux. Now, considering I had a dream last year in which I saw through Nagini's eyes, it stands to reason that the last Horcrux would be her."

"Yes. At the time I made her into a Horcrux, I thought she was the first living Horcrux in history." Tom chuckled ruefully.

"Well, that leaves us with three more Horcruxes to get rid of: The locket, Nagini, and me. I've made plans with a friend to get at the locket tomorrow." Harry told him, not sure if he meant it as a warning or as a reassurance.

"A friend?"

"You know him as Titus Travers."

"Ah yes, the assassin for hire." Tom nodded in recollection. "You trust this man?"

"I do." Harry said firmly, trying to assuage Tom's apprehension about another person being in on his secret.

"Very well. Then I'll come with you tomorrow." He said, brown eyes narrowed in determination.

"Really?" Harry asked.

Tom nodded. "My presence will help you bypass some of the nastier protections. They won't be triggered if I'm with you."

"Does this mean that you're committed to getting rid of the Horcruxes and healing yourself?" Harry asked.

Tom sighed. "I guess I am."

"I promise it'll be worth it." Harry told him firmly, holding his gaze until Tom nodded in acknowledgement. "It'll be hard, but I promise to help you through it, and I promise that by the end you'll be whole again."

* * *

Harry paced the floor of the Shrieking Shack nervously, trying to calm himself before he saw Tom again. He had been so high-strung over the coming meeting that he had arrived twenty minutes early.

He jumped nearly a foot in the air when a loud crack broke the silence. "Voldemort!" he exclaimed, spinning around to see who had apparated in.

"You can call me Tom." he replied, waving his hand embarrassedly, "I think I came a little too early."

"So did I." Harry said reassuringly "But then, I always give myself a good margin before coming, in case I run into Snape or something. The greasy git has a knack for showing up just when it's least convenient."

"Ah, yes, Severus. The man does hate you with a burning passion." Tom grinned. "You must have done something really big to earn such a depth of loathing."

Harry shrugged modestly. "Actually, he hated me far before I broke my first school rule. Still, I will admit that I gave him a few reasons to hate me since our first meeting."

"Did you now? Do tell!" There was a gleam in Tom's eyes that Harry had never seen before.

They settled into comfortable conversation, and that was how Nicolas found them, much to his surprise, when he arrived twenty minutes later.

"...so then I said: 'There's no need to call me Sir, Professor.'"

Tom gaped. "You didn't!"

Harry chortled. "I did! You should have seen his face!"

Nicolas cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh, hi!" Harry said brightly.

"Hello, Harry. And hello to you, Lord Voldemort. I must say that your looks have improved a great deal since I last saw you."

The handsome young man to whom this address referred, looked completely unsuited for the title of 'Lord Voldemort', Harry thought. Apparently Tom thought so too, because he repeated his request to be called Tom.

"Very well Tom, you may call me Nicolas."

"Nicolas?" Tom sounded startled, "Not Titus?"

Nicolas raised his eyebrows. "Surely you knew from the beginning that Titus Travers was merely a pseudonym?"

"I did, but I didn't think you trusted me enough to give me your real name." Tom replied.

Nicolas shrugged. "I trust Harry's instincts, and Harry sees something worthwhile in you."

"Does he?" Tom caught Harry's eye and grinned.

"Of course he does." Nicolas replied. "You offered Harry an Unbreakable Vow to stop harming muggles and muggle-borns. Harry could have taken that offer and finished the war in a clean sweep while washing his hands of you. He could have ended all his troubles, all the violence that's been haunting him since he was one year old yesterday, and instead he chose to make you a promise to stand by you until your soul was whole again. He saw something in you that was worth a difficult struggle- and make no mistake, your path will not be an easy one. Harry chose to tread that path with you. In my eyes, that says enough about you for me to trust you with my name."

"I hadn't thought of it like that before." Tom admitted thoughtfully. He turned to Harry. "Harry, I think I owe you quite a debt of gratitude. One that I had not quite realized the extent of until Nicolas opened my eyes."

"You don't need to thank me." Harry said. "I honestly did think it was worth it." He thought of Tom's brilliance, of his passion and his confidence, his fearless pursuit of his goals, and wanted to say 'I feel that _you're_ worth it', but he was afraid it would sound too sentimental, and said nothing.

"Right. Well, now that that's out of the way, I suppose we should commence with the Horcrux hunt. I've come prepared this time." He brandished a bottle of water. "And I have three more bottles in my pocket, just in case."

Tom frowned. "You won't be able to bring the water into the cave. The second you'll enter, it'll just vanish, and you'll be left with empty bottles."

Nicolas sighed. "I thought that might be the case. Perenelle suggested using acid to melt the basin, would that work?"

"There's no need." Tom quickly said, "The potion is tethered to me. If I vanish it, it'll vanish. Wait- did you just say Perenelle?"

Nicolas nodded.

"Are you _the_ Nicolas and Perenelle? The Flamels?"

"Indeed."

Tom turned to Harry. "Harry, this man is the sneakiest devil I've ever met! You might already know this, but the Philosopher's Stone we both spent a whole year worrying about, if for different reasons- was a fake the whole time! Flamel never gave Dumbledore the real Stone, and when Quirrell tried to get Elixir of Life from it, it just exploded in his face!"

"Are you saying it wasn't well deserved?" Nicolas asked.

"Oh, no, it definitely was, I was just filled with admiration. Had you been in Hogwarts, Mr. Flamel, you would have been placed in Slytherin without a doubt."

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment." Nicolas said. "Now, let's head towards the cave. Tom, would you be so kind as to side-along apparate Harry? He doesn't have his license yet."

"Because if the Ministry caught Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter together, I'm sure the thing they'd be most concerned about would be your lack of an apparating license." Tom whispered amusedly to Harry, but he nevertheless took Harry's hand and clutched it tightly as they apparated to the cave.

Tom insisted on his blood being used to open the tunnel, claiming it was only fair. Harry saw his point, but he still wished he had been permitted to do it instead, sparing Tom. He was in enough pain already, Harry felt. Neither Tom nor Nicolas would hear of it though, so Harry conceded, if not graciously.

When they reached the boat, they encountered a bit of a problem, as the boat wouldn't allow two grown wizards on it. Since Tom was the one with the power to vanish the potion, Nicolas agreed to stay behind.

"I'm sure that even without my presence, you'll take perfectly good care of Harry, Tom." Nicolas had said, narrowing his eyes at Tom in an obvious threat.

Though Nicolas's concern for Harry was well meaning, Harry was irritated at the implication that he needed taking care of, and indignant on Tom's behalf at the implication that he was not to be trusted. Hadn't he met with Tom alone only the day before and emerged unscathed?

He was slightly soothed by the incredulous look Tom gave Nicolas. "Honestly Nicolas, considering the outcomes of all the altercations between Harry and I so far, I would expect you to be far more concerned with my safety than with Harry's!"

Nicolas rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched slightly.

"I apologize about him." Harry told Tom quietly, once the boat had gone far enough for them to be out of Nicolas's hearing range. "He's taken on a sort of a guardian role towards me ever since he found out how terribly my real guardians treat me. I don't think he realizes that, with how I've had to live my life so far, it's been a long time since I've needed someone to look after me, a parent figure."

"Yes, I can see how someone suddenly trying to take on the role of your parent would be unwelcome," Tom replied, "but someone to take care of you? Harry, I think everyone needs that sometimes."

"Do you?" Harry asked.

Tom laughed humorlessly. "Does it matter? No one's ever tried to take care of me, welcome or otherwise. Though, in that first dream I had of you, and you put your hand on my shoulder and talked to me-" he blushed and looked away.

"Everyone deserved to have someone who takes care of them sometimes." Harry said gently, echoing Tom's words.

"Well, if you're going to take care of me, I'll be there to take care of you when you need it." Tom said firmly.

"It's a deal." Harry replied, shaking his hand.

They reached the shore, and as per their newly made deal, Harry climbed out first and held his hand out to Tom as he climbed out of the boat, to steady him and keep him from slipping.

With a casual wave of Tom's wand, the phosphorescent green liquid in the bowl vanished, and Tom reached out and grabbed his Horcrux.

"Something's wrong." The tip of Harry's wand was illuminated with a 'Lumos', and Tom held the locket under the light and examined it critically. "It's smaller than I remember it. And there should be an S engraved here." He traced a finger over the blank metal.

Harry held his hand out in a silent request, and Tom placed the locket in his hand. Harry examined it for a few moments, and then opened it. There was a folded up piece of parchment wedged where the picture should have been. Harry read it out loud.

 _To the Dark Lord,_

 _I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more."_

 _R.A.B_

"Regulus Black!" Voldemort cursed, "So that's what happened to him!"

"Sirius's brother?" Harry asked, "Sirius told me about him. He said he was a Death Eater, but he changed his mind at some point so you killed him."

"I suppose I did." Tom mused. "If not intentionally. I did install the protections that probably killed him."

"Do you think he managed to destroy the Horcrux before he died?"

Tom shook his head. "I doubt it. But then, I wouldn't have thought that he would be lucid enough once finished with drinking the potion to put the fake locket in. I wonder how he did it. How he even knew there was a Horcrux here in the first place."

"Who else knew of this place?" Harry asked.

"Just two muggles I knew as children and an old house elf I used to test the protections. It belonged to one of my Death Eat- Do you think the elf belonged to Regulus? It might have. Yes, I think it did!"

"Kreacher!" Harry groaned.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Harry muttered. "I can't believe I'm doing this I can't believe I'm doing this I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Relax, Harry." Nicolas whispered soothingly.

"Relax?! I'm sneaking Lord Voldemort into the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and you're telling me to relax?!"

"I can skip out on this one if you want." Tom suggested. "You can go with just Nicolas."

"No way. The chances of Kreacher helping a blood-traitor like me are in the negatives. If we can get him to talk, we'll need him to see I'm with Voldemort. And I can't take him out to see you, because after what happened last June at the Ministry, Sirius has forbidden him from leaving the house. You'll have to come in. Just please try not to get caught, ok? I really don't want to think about what will happen if I'm discovered."

Tom nodded, before donning Harry's invisibility cloak and disappearing.

A few extremely tense minutes later, both Harry and Tom were in Kreacher's little room, while a disallusioned Nicolas stood as sentry at the kitchen entrance.

"Kreacher, pssst- Kreacher! Wake up!" Harry whispered.

The elf jerked awake, and gave an almighty screech when he saw Harry, making Harry grateful for the silencing charms permanently placed around the kitchen, put there to prevent the kids from spying on the Order meetings.

"What is filthy blood traitoring Harry Potter doing in poor Kreacher's room? Sticking his dirty nose where it shouldn't belong when he should be at school. Sneaking about in the middle of the night, and up to no good, Kreacher is sure!"

Harry sighed. "Kreacher, I know you and I haven't gotten along before, but this is important. Please listen to me."

Kreacher narrowed his bloodshot eyes. "And what is in it for Kreacher?"

"Well, you want to serve the Dark Lord, don't you?" Harry asked "In the traditional of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?"

"What is Harry Potter talking about?"

"Look, I was only pretending to be a filthy blood traitor so that the Order wouldn't suspect me and I could spy on them. I'm actually faithful to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord needs your help."

Kreacher scoffed. "Kreacher does not believe Harry Potter. Potter is a filthy liar, he is."

"Well, I thought you might say that, and since I was worried that you wouldn't believe me, the Dark Lord kindly agreed to provide me with proof."

Tom pulled the invisibility cloak off at that moment. "I am very pleased with you Kreacher, for being shrewd enough to demand proof of loyalty to the dark side, before offering your help to Harry here."

Kreacher jumped back in shock, but soon recovered. "Who is this being? Another mudblood filthying poor Kreacher's noble house!"

"Fool!" Tom declared coldly, "Do you not recognize Lord Voldemort simply because he has disguised his appearance?"

Kreacher raised his eyebrows incredulously at Tom's handsome and young visage. "The Dark Lord?"

"My Lord," Harry said to Tom, inclining his head as reverently as he could while still keeping a straight face, "perhaps it will be necessary to speak in the noble language of Parseltongue in order to convince the elf."

 _"I really hope this works, Harry, I don't know how else to convince him."_ Tom said.

Kreacher started, and then swept into a rather shaky vow. "How may Kreacher serve the great Dark Lord and most cunning and noble Harry Potter Sir?"

Tom waved his hand to indicate that Harry should speak.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the fake locket Regulus had placed in a cave. "Kreacher, there is a locket that looks a bit like this one that Regulus was supposed to destroy. We were hoping that you would know if he succeeded. Kreacher?"

Harry had barely begun to speak when Kreacher had burst out crying. "Kreacher... hic... Kreacher tried, my Lordses, oh, how he tried! But Kreacher failed! Kreacher failed to fulfill Master Regulus's d-d-dying wish! It was the last thing Master Regulus wanted before he was p-p-pulled under the water, but Kreacher could not do it! Oh, Kreacher is a bad bad elf! Kreacher did all he could, but nothing worked! Kreacher is sorry!"

"Oh, Kreacher," Harry sighed, feeling sympathy well up in him despite himself, "No one is blaming you for failing to destroy the locket. It's protected by the most powerful enchantments possible. I'd be shocked if you had managed to destroy it. Neither I nor Lord Voldemort are mad at you for failing in the task. Right, my Lord?"

Harry nudged Tom in the ribs, causing him to jump, before clearing his throat awkwardly. "Er, yes, Kreacher. I am most pleased with you for your cooperation. Your failure to destroy the locket will not be held against you."

Kreacher's sobs were dying down, and he finally blew his nose miserably on his filthy pillowcase and fell silent.

"Kreacher," Harry said, upon determining the worst of the crying had passed, "we are capable of destroying the locket and helping you fulfill Regulus's last request. Will you please tell us where the locket is, so we can help?"

Kreacher sniffed, and then nodded.

Before he could say anything though, Nicolas shouted: "Someone's coming!" And Kreacher threw himself back on his pile of rags pretending to sleep while Tom pulled Harry close enough to throw the invisibility cloak around them both.

A light came on in the kitchen, and as Sirius fumbled around for a cup of water, Harry became hyper aware of Tom's body being pressed against his. They were standing uncomfortably close under the cloak, and Harry could feel Tom's shallow breaths against his neck. His heart was thundering in his chest, racing with what had to be the adrenaline and the fear of being caught.

A moment later the kitchen darkened again as Sirius left, glass in hand, and Tom slowly let go of Harry. Kreacher straightened up again.

"So, Kreacher," Tom said, a slight blush staining his normally pale cheeks, "you were going to tell us the location of the locket."

"Oh, Kreacher can do better than that, Sirs." And he reached under his pillow and pulled out the locket they had been searching for.

With a pant of exhilaration, Tom reached out and grabbed the Horcrux.

"Wonderful, Kreacher! You know what? If there's anything left of the locket after we're done with it I can bring it to you next time I come by. Proof that Regulus's wishes were finally fulfilled. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Kreacher nodded his head vigorously. "Harry Potter Sir is most kind."

It was only after they left that it occurred to Harry that Tom might have wanted to keep the locket's remains himself, but when he brought it up Tom shook his head vehemently and proclaimed that he never wanted to see the locket again. "Kreacher is more than welcome to keep the damn thing." He concluded, and so it was settled.

Once they reached the Flamel home, Harry, rather than standing by Nicolas like he had with the previous Horcruxes, wand at the ready in case he lost control of the Fiendfyre, chose to stick by Tom. It had to be hard for him to stand by and watch his soul vessel be destroyed, and Harry thought maybe he could help take his mind off of things.

As the sentient bolts of fire shot out of Nicolas's wand, Harry saw Tom's fists clench by his side. Taking Tom's hand in his own, Harry gently unclenched the fist, and threaded his fingers through Tom's in a comforting gesture.

An agonized scream emerged from the locket as the fire consumed it, and Harry felt Tom shudder. He soothingly squeezed Tom's hand, and silently gritted his teeth against the pain when Tom's grip became painfully tight.

When the Fiendfyre began to die out, Tom slowly unclenched his fist and opened his eyes, which he had screwed shut at some point. Staring into them, Harry realized that Tom's eyes were no longer brown with a reddish tint, but rather an attractive dark brown.

He smiled slightly at Tom. "We're getting there. Soon you'll be whole."


	8. Regret

**Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls**

 **Part III: Soulcrux**

 **Chapter Eight: Regret**

"Tom." Harry smiled at the handsome man who appeared next to him on the snow covered grounds of the Forbidden Forest. He was not surprised to find himself dreaming of the man. He had gone to sleep with thoughts full of Tom, of their meeting, of the look on his face when his Horcrux was being destroyed, and of the weak smile he had given Harry once it was all over.

"Harry." Tom breathed, smiling radiantly. He leaned forward, and for a brief moment Harry thought he was going to kiss him, but Tom simply leaned in and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"I feel happy." He said. "I feel happy and I feel hope, and I haven't felt either in a very long time. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." Harry said earnestly.

Tom nodded, and let go of Harry, taking a step back. "Once I wake up, I'll once again feel sad and scared and alone, but soon, Harry, soon- there won't be any difference between how I feel in my dreams and how I feel when I wake."

Harry thought that he had never wanted something more in his life.

"For now, though, I just want to enjoy feeling whole. I have no more Horcruxes to show you- let's just walk."

* * *

"I don't want to kill Nagini." Tom declared, "I can't do it! She's my pet, and she's been nothing but loyal to me. And besides, look at her! She's so cute!"

Harry stared at the huge Viper doubtfully. "She's certainly... er... memorable."

"And look!" Tom exclaimed, "She's doing that stretching thing with her neck! She knows it makes her too adorable to resist! Oh, why did I have to make her a Horcrux?"

Harry knew from long and painful experience that people could be irrational about their pets, and therefore tactfully chose not to say that it seemed to him as if she was stretching her neck to better compare her size to Harry in order to decide if he would make a good snack. He imagined how he would feel if he needed to kill Hedwig, and grimaced in sympathy.

"There is another way, you know." He told Tom.

"Remorse? I suppose so." Tom sighed. "Destroying a Horcrux is so much more simple, isn't it? Remorse seems somehow insubstantial and elusive. Still, I suppose I should try. It'll be worth it if it will make my soul whole and leave Nagini alive." He looked at Harry. "And, of course, there is still the Horcrux in you. I can hardly kill you. So, in the end, it was always inevitable that I'd have to face my past."

Real and true remorse, Harry recalled Nicolas saying, required the person to genuinely feel the pain of what they'd done. It wasn't a pleasant prospect. He suddenly fought a ridiculous urge to apologize for putting Tom in that situation. Instead, Harry gestured at Nagini and asked him "When did you get her?"

"Oh, around three years ago, a bit after Wormtail tracked me down. I liked her best, because she was stupider than most snakes. She would just blindly do whatever I said- absolutely no independent thought. I feel like I have a duty to protect her- she relies on me completely."

"And when did you make her into a Horcrux?" Harry asked, gently prodding Tom in the right direction.

"Well, Wormtail had met Bertha Jorkins in a pub or something, and had actually managed to think for himself for long enough to convince her to follow him to me. I thought she would probably have useful information, being from the Ministry and all. I- I hurt her, trying to get her to tell me her secrets. She started talking almost immediately, and that's when I found out about the Triwizard Tournament, only I quickly realized that something was wrong. She couldn't remember the most basic things about her job, her hours, and her acquaintances, classic signs of a too-strong Obliviation Charm."

Tom took a long shuddering breath before continuing.

"It's not easy to undo memory charms of that strength. The person subjected to them has to be really and truly desperate. I-I didn't start with the Crucio. First I- oh god- first I cast the- the Bone Shattering Curse on her, but it-it didn't work, because the memory was buried too deep in her subconscious. So I cast it again, and again, and then I started with- Harry, I can't do this! I can't! I can't! I can't think about it! Please don't make me!"

He had buried his head in his hands when he had begun to talk about Bertha Jorkins, and Harry strongly suspected he was hiding tears. Or maybe he was just ashamed. Acting on instinct, Harry put his hand on Tom's back, and patted it soothingly. "It's okay, you don't have to do it. Relax, Tom."

"How can you bear to touch me?" Tom asked, face still buried in hands, "I'm a monster."

"You weren't yourself when you did it." Harry said firmly. "When you created the Horcruxes you went into something without knowing the full consequences, and it had a price, of course it did. Your soul is ripped apart, and that has an affect. But that's not who you are. If I thought it was, I never would have tried to help you."

"And what about Nagini?" Tom moaned, "If I can't do this I'll need to kill her, and I just can't do that. I'm going to languish in misery with half a soul forever!"

"Keep your head down." Harry instructed quietly.

"What-?" Tom moved to raise his head, but Harry put his hand on it and gently pushed it back down. He sent a silent cutting spell, aiming it at Nagini's neck to make it as quick and painless as possible. With a soft thump, she slumped to the floor.

"What was-" Tom moved to raise his head again, but Harry kept it down. "Don't look yet. It's done. It was painless- she didn't know it was coming, and she didn't feel a thing."

"Thank you." Tom whispered.

"Don't look yet." Harry replied, "You don't want to remember her like this. I'll take care of the body."

Harry opted to bury the body rather than incinerate it on the spot, more out of respect for Tom's feeling than any regard for Nagini.

When Harry came back, Tom was sitting on his couch, staring blankly at a streak of blood that was left on the floor. Harry hurriedly cleaned it with a sweep of his wand.

"I couldn't do it, Harry." Tom said tonelessly, still staring at the floor. "It was all very well when you solved the problem of the Horcrux in Nagini for me, but what about the Horcrux in you? Am I supposed to kill you in order to heal my soul? If that's what it takes, I might as well just be Voldemort for all the difference it makes." He looked up at Harry. His looks may have reverted back to those of his teenage years, but his eyes were old.

Harry bit his lip, trying to think of something the say that would wipe the miserable look from Tom's face. "Maybe there's another way to return a Horcrux other than remorse. We should ask Nicolas, he's kind of a Horcrux expert." Personally, Harry doubted there was any other way. If there had been, Nicolas would have brought it up. But he wanted to make Tom feel better, and give him more time before he had to come to terms with the prospect of what was ahead of him.

"Why is he a Horcrux expert?" Tom asked curiously, "He doesn't need them, he has his Philosopher's Stone."

"Well, for one thing, him and Perenelle are the only people around who were alive when the Horcrux was first invented, before the very mention of it became banned. They know all the information about them that was freely available at the beginning. That's how I knew about your Horcruxes- Nicolas had figured it out."

"And you think he'll know a way to get my soul out of you?" Tom asked hopefully.

Harry shrugged. "It certainly won't hurt to ask."

* * *

"There isn't another way." Nicolas declared point blank. "The very existence of a Horcrux relies on the object acting as an anchor to this world. If it would break free of the soul vessel, a Horcrux wouldn't work in the first place."

Harry felt a pang of guilt for getting Tom's hopes up. Nicolas must have seen how crestfallen Tom felt, because he put his hand on Tom's shoulder bracingly. "You needn't look so dejected, Tom. You knew getting into this that it would be difficult- but you must not mistake difficult for impossible. The soul is not a Sneakoscope or a Vanishing Cabinet, which can be fixed with some tinkering, the healing of the soul is a process- a long and hard one."

"What do I do to make it heal?" Tom asked.

Nicolas sighed. "It's a shame you can't really talk to a psychologist, they would probably know better than I what to do. Still- be with people who you love and who love you back. Talk about how you feel, don't keep your emotions bottled in. Not everything needs to be goal-oriented: for the sake of reabsorbing the Horcrux, you can also just spend time with your friends and loved ones, and enjoy their company. Allow them to keep your mind off depressing subjects."

"I don't really have many friends or loved ones." Tom muttered.

"Ah, yes- you wouldn't. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment there. Still, you have Harry and I, and you'll have Perenelle too once you meet her. I'm sorry she couldn't be here now, she only comes back from work in an hour. If you want to talk about something, or if you just want to spend some time with people who are aware that you are no longer who you were, you are welcome to come to me. Even if it's in the middle of the night, and you feel yourself beginning to sink into depression or starting to worry about everything that can go wrong, as people tend to do when alone with their thoughts, you can contact me."

"And me!" Harry added.

"Of course, Harry sneaks out of Hogwarts so often, he'll probably be available as well."

"Actually," Harry said gloomily, "I have detention with Snape again. Every night for the next two weeks. I'll still sneak out to see you, of course, if you send the word, but it'll probably take a while."

"Detention again, Harry?" Nicolas asked incredulously, "What was it for this time?"

"Failing too many of my homework essays. It's not my fault! Snape always gives me a T no matter how good my essay is!"

"That's nasty." Tom narrowed his eyes. "Want me to have a word with him, Harry?"

"What would you say?" Harry asked curiously.

"That I feel it is my duty as a concerned citizen to make sure that no student is being discriminated against to the point that their education is compromised."

"Seriously?" Harry snorted.

"I'd tell him it's no fair that he's taking up all of your free time, when I clearly need you far more than he does."

Was he flirting? Oh Merlin, Harry hoped so. Still- "I'm not sure it's a good idea to say that to Snape."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Harry, I'm a Slytherin. I think I'm cunning enough to get Snape to leave you alone without revealing the relationship between us."

Nicolas clapped his hands. "I'm glad that's all worked out. Now, I really must get started on dinner, since I want it to be ready once Perenelle gets back. Harry, if you think you won't be missed for the next hour, you're welcome to stay. And Tom- of course, if you're going to heal your soul you might as well get used to doing all the sickeningly normal and wholesome things like helping your host around the house and having dinner with good friends."

Tom looked slightly disbelieving, as if unable to picture himself doing something quite that ordinary, but he agreed to stay nevertheless.

Harry irresponsibly decided to stay too. He would have to sneak in well after curfew and Ron and Hermione would worry, but he liked the idea of being the one to remind Tom of all the reasons having a soul was wonderful.

* * *

"So, Harry, where were you last night?" Hermione asked the next day as they entered the Defense classroom and sat down at the very back. "You didn't show up for dinner. I tried to wait up for you, but Ron and Lavender were in the Common Room, and the sight of them slurping all over each other was making me nauseous."

Harry had stayed at the Flamel's even later than planned. He knew that when Tom was alone the mental anguish from his severed soul began to creep up on him again, and he knew that he was helping Tom take his mind off all that by distracting him. He just hadn't been able to bring himself to leave until far too late.

"It's a secret." Harry replied.

"What's the secret?" Ron asked.

"Do you even understand the concept of secrets?" Harry asked drily.

"Come on, Harry." Hermione wheedled, "We're your best friends. You can tell us anything."

"Oi! I refuse to be lectured by you about keeping secrets from friends! You kept the time-turner from us for a whole year! And you didn't even have the decency to tell us it was a secret, you would just blatantly change the subject whenever it came up."

"Alright." Hermione chuckled, "Fair enough. Go on then, Ron, you ask him. He can't lecture you about double standards."

"Actually, I'm more interested in hearing what you meant when you said the sight of Lavender and I snogging was nauseating." Ron said indignantly.

"It's very simple-" Hermione began to retort, but thankfully, Snape chose that moment to sweep into the classroom and end the conversation prematurely.

The class seemed to pass quicker than classes with Snape normally did. At first, Harry thought it was simply because he was dreading Ron and Hermione going back to bickering once the lesson ended, but as they were leaving the classroom, Snape called for Harry to stay behind, and Harry realized that it was because Snape had ignored him for the whole lesson.

A good look at Snape revealed that something was amiss. His normally pale skin was slightly green in colour, and instead of the traditional sneer he wore whenever his gaze fell on Harry, he looked faintly nauseous. Examining his face curiously, Harry was shocked when Snape caught his eye, and immediately backed away from Harry with his chair.

"Potter. It has come to my attention that there has been an error in the grading of your past essay. The T was an unfortunate typo, you actually received an A. Since you have reached the lowest level of competence possible without failing, the reason for your detention is no longer valid, and the detention has been canceled."

Harry gaped.

"Get out of my sight, Potter." Snape finally snapped, after ten seconds of Harry standing there unsure of how to act, and afraid to say anything that might change Snape's mind. Harry hastily obeyed.

Exiting the classroom, Harry saw that Ron and Hermione had waited for him. They were bickering again in full force.

"How the hell would you know if I lack kissing technique?"

"Oh please! Anyone who's seen the two of you snogging can tell! I don't know why Lavender puts up with it!"

"You know nothing!" Ron shouted loudly, drawing several looks from passersby. "I'm a great kisser!"

"Oh yeah?" Hermione's tone was dripping with disdain, "Prove it!"

"I will! And by the time I'm done, you'll admit that _you're_ the one with no kissing technique!"

"We'll see. Ten o'clock tonight, Weasley, the Trophy Room, you against me. Let's settle this once and for all!"

"You're on!" Ron shouted.

"Very well." Hermione said, and sauntered off with a little smirk on her face.

Ron fell silent for a few minutes before turning to Harry. "Did that just happen?". Harry nodded solemnly.

"But...What does it mean?"

Ron really could be thick sometimes. "It means," Harry explained patiently, "that Hermione wants you to kiss her. And that you need to break up with Lavender, because you're in love with another woman, and it isn't fair to her."

"Oh." said Ron eloquently. Harry patted him on the back bracingly. "Awkward situation or not, at least your feelings are mutual, that's actually a lovely position to be in."

Ron smiled. "I guess you're right."

* * *

"Tom, you're a wizard!" Harry cried upon seeing him that evening.

"Really?" Tom's eyes opened in utter astonishment, reminding Harry what a great actor he was. "Is that why I can make things float and talk to snakes?!"

"Stop that." Harry complained, "I meant it like the muggle phrase- that you've achieved the impossible. How in Merlin's name did you get Snape to cancel my detentions?"

"Oh, that was easy, I told him that you had a crush on him."

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Harry roared.

Tom smirked, and then adopted a cold tone. "Severus, it has come to my attention in my last foray into Potter's mind that the little twerp is in love with you. It was absolutely the most sickening thing I have ever witnessed, and I want you to put a stop to it immediately. You dare question Lord Voldemort? I know what I saw Severus. Yes, I know you treat him terribly. The boy thinks that because you are his teacher and are therefore forbidden from showing your regard, you singling him out for detention is your way of saying you like to spend time alone with him. Yes, I know it's preposterous, but that's what the brat thinks. Therefore, you are to cancel the boy's detention and desist from singling him out. From now on, you are to treat Potter like you would any other student, and if the next time I am in his head I catch so much as a single solitary slither of nauseating hope you'll be cruciod until you can't walk. Am I understood?"

"I can't believe you did that." Harry said blankly.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Aw, come on, Harry, so what if Snape thinks you fantasize about detentions with him?"

"I _am_ going to be sick."

"I can't believe this is the thanks I'm getting for my help."

"I'll never be able to look Snape in the eye again without blushing."

"Perfect. It will encourage the illusion that you have a crush."

"I hate you."

Tom grinned smugly. "See? I can do something as stupid and plebeian as playing a prank."

"I see what this is about. You're trying to prove that even as you do common, everyday normal-people activities you still remain an evil asshole."

"I'm sorry, Harry." Tom said, sounding utterly unrepentant," Look, I'll make it up to you."

"How are you going to do that?" Harry asked hopefully.

Tom shrugged. "I'll think of something."

Harry let it go for the time being. "There was actually something else I was wondering, having to do with Snape. You basically told me he's still a Death Eater."

"And you looked completely unsurprised. And judging from the fact that despite what I told you Severus has not lost his place in the Order of the Phoenix, I can assume that he was playing double agent. How incredibly typical of him."

"You don't mind?" Harry asked.

Tom shrugged. "I was suspicious of him from the very beginning. I can't honestly say I'm all that surprised."

"Which brings me to my next question. I don't get the impression you want to be Voldemort anymore. Now that you're capable of feeling guilt and empathy again, you can't want what you wanted before, can you?"

Tom shook his head.

"So what are you going to do about all the Death Eaters who look to you as their leader?"

Tom shrugged. "I just figured that when I'm ready, I'll just up and leave. When I don't show up for long enough, they'll eventually figure I died. Maybe I'll even mention I'm going off to kill a baby to one of the Death Eaters before I leave. They'll just think it's a repeat of what happened with you."

"Aren't you worried about them continuing to fight the Ministry even without you around?"

Tom scoffed. "Did they do that the first time around I was killed? All they want is some power. Once I'm not longer in the picture, it would be more in their interests to leave their life of crime behind, and that's exactly what they'll do. The only ones who were really loyal to me were Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Barty. They were really the only ones who truly valued killing muggles over their own self interest. Or maybe they were just sadistic enough to not care about anything else."

"And what about them?" Harry asked, "What if Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan try to find you?"

"I see the problem. We wouldn't want a Longbottom repeat. You think I should set them up? Send them on a mission and give them a portkey that leads to the inside of a volcano?"

"Not that the thought isn't appealing," Harry admitted, "and not that their deaths wouldn't be well deserved, but I'm not sure killing people is the best course of action while trying to heal your soul."

"Then what do you suggest I do, Harry?"

"I was turning something over in my head last night. Rufus Scrimgeour would really like my cooperation with the Ministry as a public image thing. He came over on Christmas break to ask me for some public support. I refused, of course. I find the idea of saying I support the Auror Department repugnant, when I know all they do is arrest innocent people to maintain the illusion of competence and productivity. After it ended, though, I saw that Sirius looked pretty down. I think he was hoping I would negotiate with Scrimgeour over getting him a trial and acquitted. I have so little trust in the Ministry that it honestly never occurred to me at the time."

"If I could contact Scrimgeour again with a tip about putting up animagus-revealing spells in his office, and someone happens to be revealed as an animagus and arrested, maybe I could make it up to Sirius that way."

"So now you want me to set Wormtail up to be caught by the aurors." Tom guessed. "I don't object, but I don't see how that'll help with our problem of the murderous trio."

"Well, I don't Wormtail all that well, but the little I know of him has me convinced that when faced with the prospect of Azkaban, it won't take him long to start blabbing."

"And he reveals that all the Azkaban escapees are living in Malfoy Manor, the aurors are hopefully smart enough to act quickly enough that Lucius doesn't have time to find out about it, ambush the Manor, and get rid of all my problems." Tom finished. "I like it. Quick, clean, and involving minimal effort on my part."

"You'll do it?" Harry smiled so wide he thought his face might split in two.

"Of course I will. You can't think I have any love for the Death Eaters?"

Harry shrugged, because he hadn't been sure.

Tom sighed. "Harry, the worst thing about making the Horcruxes and then reabsorbing them was the Death Eaters. Or, at least, what they symbolized. Because while I had completely lost myself, my personality, I never lost my brains. I hadn't just become a mindless killing machine, I had become a brilliant, calculated psychopath. When I came back to myself, I didn't just have to contend with my past deeds, I had to deal with the fact that I built a whole society, an organization based on murder and cruelty, and that I was their leader. The cruelest and most sadistic scumbags, the dregs of society looked up to me as the worst of them all, and expected me to lead them to power, It's actually terrifying." He admitted. "I'll be very happy when there's no longer such a thing as Death Eaters."

Harry nodded sympathetically, though he knew he could never really understand the mental and emotional stress Tom was currently under. Maybe Tom realized that too, because he flushed and looked away from Harry. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this anyways. It's stupid. I brought it all upon myself after all."

"I don't think it's stupid." Harry replied, "And just because you brought it upon yourself doesn't mean you deserve it or that you shouldn't be distressed by it. Anyways, this is good- this is exactly what Nicolas was talking about: talking about how you feel and letting people in. It's healing for your soul."

Tom grimaced. "Is it always so unpleasant?"

"The more unpleasant it is to talk about, the more relief you feel once you've got it off your chest." Harry said, speaking from experience.

Tom made a face.

Harry chuckled slightly. "Don't worry, I won't make you sit here talking about how you feel all day. Lingering on what makes you miserable for too long isn't good either. Right now we should be doing something fun to take your mind off heavy thoughts."

"Like what?" Tom asked interestedly.

"Like flying. I figured that was something fun that you've probably never done before, so I get to introduce it to you! I brought my Firebolt and a school broom. Once you feel comfortable on the low key one, you can try my fast one out."

"Riding broomsticks?" Tom looked extremely sceptical. "I'm Voldemort. I don't ride broomsticks."

"No you're not, and yes you do." Harry took his hand a began pulling. "Come on!"

* * *

End of chapter.

I'd like to make an announcement- this story isn't abandoned. It's not going to be abandoned either. I've been really busy lately, but I definitely plan on finishing the story and write whenever I have a few spare minutes. I also want to apologize in advance to everyone who reviews, it'll probably take me ages to reply to you. I promise your review will (eventually) be read and smiled over and appreciated.

Thank you!


	9. The Sympathy of Souls

**Right, this is the last chapter of the story. Warnings for fluff. Sickening, tooth-rotting, fluff.**

 **I hope you like it, and it lives up to all your expectations!**

* * *

 **Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls**

 **Part III: Soulcrux**

 **Chapter Nine: The Sympathy of Souls**

"Harry," Tom announced one day, a few weeks after the death of Nagini, "I'm ready."

They had been in the midst of a chess match, and Harry had been staring at the board, a look of deep concentration on his face. Tom had been staring at Harry.

"Ready for what?" Harry asked absently, not taking his eyes off the chess set. Tom was extremely sharp, and Harry knew that one poorly thought out move would spell his doom.

"I'm ready for my soul to be whole again. I want to feel complete, to experience emotions to their fullest extent. I'm ready to take back the piece of my soul inside of you."

Harry looked up, startled. It was silly, but he had almost forgotten about the last piece of soul still needing to be absorbed. In the past few weeks, as Harry had spent more and more time with Tom, he had begun to know him better. And the better Harry had gotten to know Tom, the more he had fallen in love with him. He had begun to feel as if things were perfect and need never change.

True, Tom would still fall silent and contemplative on occasion, and sometimes there would be a look of unbearable sadness in his eyes, but Harry was very good at bringing a smile to his face even in his worst moods.

Still, the thought of Tom finally being complete and happy was wonderful, even if Harry did have to squash the fear that lingered in the back of his mind, worrying if Tom would still want to spend time with him once he no longer needed help from Harry in getting his soul back.

"I'm so happy for you!" He said with genuine pleasure, "What made you finally decide you were ready?"

Tom shook his head slowly. "I just realized that my desire to heal overrides all of my fears by far. As much as death scares me, I want to experience the things that make life worth living so much more."

"That's wonderful." Harry smiled, then he faltered as he remembered what Tom still had to go through. "Though I wish it were already over with. It won't be pleasant. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, I think you can. Could you-" Tom swallowed, "could you tell me about what it was like for you? Growing up without parents, not having anyone who cared about you?"

Harry paled. He did not like thinking about his childhood with the Dursleys, and the thought of causing Tom pain and guilt was repugnant to him. "I think it was pretty similar to your own experience." He said evasively.

"Please, Harry. You promised to help."

Tom was right, he had. But all Harry could think of was the pain in Tom's eyes when he tried to absorb the Horcrux in Nagini. The unbearable anguish that had prompted Harry to kill Nagini in order to spare Tom.

"I know I promised to help, Tom, but I just don't know if I have the strength to talk about it." He said helplessly.

Tom deflated. "Yes, I'm sure it's painful to remember. I understand, Harry, I do."

"It's not that!" Harry protested, "I just- I can't stand the thought of purposely causing you pain and making you hurt." He gazed at Tom beseechingly, willing him to understand. "I don't hate you for what happened, I forgive you wholeheartedly. I've already suffered the pain once, why should you have to suffer it too? I don't want you to!"

"You- you don't want to talk about it for my sake?" There was awe in Tom's gaze as he stared at Harry. "You're not bothered by reliving the trauma and dredging up your own pain, all you care about is preventing my own. Oh, Harry." There was moisture in Tom's eyes. "As much as I appreciate your desire to spare me, and I really truly do, you can't protect me- not from this.

"I'm not looking forward to the pain any more than you are, but I realized that it needs to happen. I've been so removed from my humanity I didn't think I'd ever come back, and to regain it I have to undergo this experience, I have to be shaken and hurt by my past deeds. If I want to be worthy of yo- of a second chance, I need to feel the pain, and there's nothing you can do to prevent that."

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes so as not to look into Tom's, and said: "Alright, Tom, I'll do it."

Tom gulped. "That's- that's good. Why don't- why don't you-" and Harry was being maneuvered to lean against Tom and lean his head against Tom's shoulder. "That way you can" his voice faltered for a moment "can comfort me with your presence, but you won't need to look at me. I promise not to make any noise, so as not to make it any harder on you."

Harry nodded slightly, closed his eyes, summoned up all the bravery he had, and began talking.

He spoke about the crushing loneliness. The knowledge that there wasn't a single person in the world to whom it mattered if he lived or died. He spoke of wondering if he'd ever be able to make a connection with another human being.

Tom may have promised not to make any noise, but Harry heard his sharp intake of breath when Harry's voice wobbled when speaking of missing his mother and father.

When Tom put his hand on Harry's back, pulling him into a tentative hug he didn't resist, and he did the rest of his talking with his head buried in Tom's shoulder, muffling the words slightly. He could feel Tom shaking with sobs, and tried not to think of the agony Tom was experiencing, but rather abide by his wishes and continue talking.

When Harry finally fell silent, Tom's arm was still around him, but he seemed to have collapsed. When his dead weight became a bit much for Harry, he nudged Tom nervously, and relaxed when Tom began to stir.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, concerned.

Tom considered the question at length before nodding slowly and giving Harry a soft smile. He looked shaken, but oddly peaceful as well.

"Did it work?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes, I can feel the difference without a doubt." Tom frowned thoughtfully. "You know, it's funny, I never felt the return of a Horcrux so acutely before. The first few ones, I couldn't even tell I had gotten them back, but this one..." he trailed off. "Maybe because the other Horcruxes were just stuck in inanimate objects, and this one was in you; experiencing you had an impact. It- I- learned so much from you. I can remember what it remembers now. I feel everything it felt. It feels new, but also like something I've known all along." He glanced at Harry and flushed.

Harry felt a sweet shyness emanating from his scar and smiled reflexively back at Tom before he realized what had just happened. He had just felt Tom's emotions through their connection. What was happening? Was Harry still a Horcrux?

"Tom," he said, as evenly as he could, "I just felt your emotions."

There was a strong pulse of panic from Harry's scar. "I don't understand." Tom said in bewilderment, "I thought it worked. It did work, I can feel that my soul is whole again, and my newfound memories of being in your head seem to indicate that I've reunited with the piece of soul that's inside of you. How can my soul be whole when there's still a piece of it inside of you?"

His phrasing made some connection click into place in Harry's mind. Soulcrux.

"I understand." he breathed.

"You do?"

"Of course." Harry beamed at Tom triumphantly, "I think that deep down I've known for a long time. How could it have ever been anything else? Our destinies have always been intertwined."

"Harry, you're being frustratingly cryptic. Can you please explain?"

Harry didn't explain. Instead, he flung himself on top of Tom and pressed his lips to Tom's.

Tom froze for a split second, but then made a deep sound in the back of his throat and began kissing Harry back passionately, hands cupping Harry's face. Harry felt Tom's lips curving in a smile against his mouth.

When they broke apart, both were gasping for air and smiling uncontrollably at each other. Finally, Tom ventured "While I definitely don't object, you didn't really explain anything, Harry. Did you kiss me to try and distract me from asking about you still being a Horcrux?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not trying to avoid anything; I kissed you because I realized that you must love me back. As for why I still feel your emotions-" Harry tried to explain things, but found that he couldn't. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out when he tried to speak. The sensation was rather like that of wanting to scream in a dream, but being unable to find a voice. Harry shuddered, he had forgotten all about the spell Nicolas had cast the first time they had met, when he told him about Horcruxes, to keep Harry from telling anyone about them.

Finally Harry gave up. "I can't tell you. It's very old soul magic and Nicolas cast a spell when he first told me about it so that I couldn't speak of it. You should ask him, though, I'm sure he'd tell you." After all, the reason for keeping the information a secret was to keep people from creating Horcruxes. It couldn't do much damage with Tom, since he'd already done the worst possible with his partial information.

Wait a second- "If you have all of my memories, how come you don't remember the very first conversation I had with Nicolas, where he explained everything?"

Tom pondered his words before answering, playing absently with Harry's hair while he did. "Having the Horcrux's memories isn't the same as having yours. I don't remember events you experienced, or conversations you had- I remember feelings. Your love for Nicolas and Perenelle, your joy when spending time with Ron and Hermione, your protectiveness towards me developing slowly, and then morphing. I remember the sensation of knowing you in and out- the essence of my being inside yours. I can't remember what Nicolas told you, though." He finished ruefully. "I can't remember any events in a concrete way. I do know, though, that I loved you long before you even knew that I existed."

While Tom had been more and more emotionally open around Harry as time had gone by, Harry had never before heard him speak in quite so frank and revealing a way. It made Tom irresistible. Harry couldn't help himself, he launched himself at Tom again.

"Weren't-" Tom laughed breathlessly between kisses "Weren't we going to- to Nicolas and ask him- ask him something."

"Later." Harry whispered, and bent down to press his lips to Tom's once more.

* * *

"Darling," Nicolas called to his wife, "Harry's coming over. He just left a message saying he has something important to tell us."

"Did he say what it's about?" Perenelle questioned.

"No, but he seemed in very high spirits when I spoke to him, so I don't think that there's any cause for concern." Nicolas leaned against the counter and stared at his wife. "Let's make treacle tart for dinner."

Perenelle raised her eyebrows. "Harry's favourite food?"

Nicolas shrugged. "He might stay over for dinner."

Perenelle smiled warmly at her husband. "You've really come to care for him deeply, haven't you?"

"As if you haven't." Nicolas retorted. "Merlin, it's frightening, isn't it?"

"Frightening?"

"Opening yourself up and allowing yourself to care for someone who you know will you will outlive, and whose death will break your heart. For so long we've avoided forming strong connections with other people because we didn't want to watch all our friends and loved ones die. And then Harry comes, and manages to slither his way in like a snake, making me love him without my permission- I don't want to lose him, and yet I have no choice."

"Nicolas," Perenelle replied gently, "Harry came to you when he was lost and had no one to rely on. You've been the first adult he felt he could trust, probably the first person he allowed himself to lean on and shoulder some of his burdens. Being there for him, opening our home and hearts, it's worth any heartbreak we might eventually endure."

Nicolas wrapped his arms around his wife. "You're right, of course you are."

She returned his embrace wordlessly, knowing that he too was thinking of other soul-bound couples who had chosen to die rather than outlive their children.

* * *

Harry took a bracing breath and knocked on the door of the Flamel residence. For the first time since his kiss with Tom a little worry managed to worm itself into his joy-induced haze. How would Nicolas and Perenelle react to the news? That Harry was in love with a boy? That the boy he loved used to be Lord Voldemort? Would they think he was insane? Would they hate him?

"Come on in, it's open!" Perenelle's voice came from inside the house. Harry entered the house, holding the door open for Tom to come in after him. "In the kitchen!" Nicolas called.

The kitchen was well lit and smelled of baking, and Harry felt some of the tension leave him at the sight of Nicolas and Perenelle's warm and familiar faces.

"It's wonderful to see you, Harry. Oh, and you've brought Tom along too. Hello dear!"

Tom waved nervously.

"Harry, you said you have something to tell us?" Nicolas said curiously, in lieu of greeting.

Harry gulped and nodded.

"Well, what is it, then?" he prompted impatiently.

"Nicolas, I need you to tell Tom about- about that thing you explained to me the first time we met. The thing you cast an enchantment to keep me from telling other people."

Nicolas stared at Harry incredulously. "Harry, I'm pretty sure Tom already knows about Horcruxes."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not that! The other thing."

"Oh, I see. Well, I don't mind telling Tom about Soulcruxes, though I do wonder how it came up in a conversation."

"Can you please tell Tom first? I'll explain everything after, but he deserves to know."

Nicolas began explaining the same thing he had told Harry five years ago. Tom's eyes widened in shock when Nicolas announced that there was no Philosopher's Stone and never had been, and as Nicolas finished his explanation, Tom's eyes came to rest on Harry, awe reflected in their depths.

"Excuse us for a second." he muttered to Nicolas and Perenelle, not taking his eyes off Harry. Then he took Harry by the hand and dragged him out of the kitchen.

The second the kitchen door closed, Harry found himself pressed against the wall being showered with kisses. "You-" Tom muttered in between kisses, "You really"- kiss- "do" - kiss- "love me."

"I told you I did." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but what with- what with all the history between us it just seemed too good to be true. But this-" he waved a hand in between them, "this is proof that it's real. That it's permanent. That despite- despite everything, we love each other."

"Yeah, we do."

* * *

Back in the kitchen, Nicolas was staring at the door through which Harry and Tom left pensively. "I hope they won't take too long," he told his wife, "I'm a bit confused over everything, and I'd like an explanation as to what's going on."

"I think I might have a theory." Perenelle murmured, staring at the door through which Tom and Harry had disappeared.

Nicolas scratched his head. "Well, obviously Tom, who's still frightened by his own mortality, would like to create a Philosopher's Stone, and Harry wanted me to explain to him so that he would realize that it's probably not possible. I just don't understand what it was that Harry wanted to tell us and how it ties in to Tom's quest for immortality."

Perenelle shook her head. "That's what I thought at first too, that it had something to do with Tom and the Stone, but then I saw how Tom reacted to what you told him, and it got me thinking- Oh, I don't want to say anything until Harry confirms it, just in case I'm wrong."

"Very well, my darling, but I warn you- if they're not back in ten minutes I shall tickle the information out of you- there's only so much suspense a man can bear."

Just then the door opened, and Harry and Tom strode in, both with cheeks tinged pink. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right. The news I had to share. I think that I've formed a soul connection- a Soulcrux, with someone."

"I knew it!" Perenelle cried out triumphantly, "I knew it! Oh, congratulations darlings, that's wonderful news!"

"It really is!" Nicolas agreed, though he looked as though he were knocked off kilter, "Though I must admit that unlike Perenelle I didn't know it. In fact, I've been caught rather blindsided. I haven't heard you mention any romantic partner before. Who's the lucky girl and why have you been keeping her a secret?"

"Oh, Nicolas." Perenelle was shaking her head at him, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Yes, well, err-" Harry stammered, "it's not actually a girl. It's- it's Tom."

"Tom." Nicolas repeated blankly.

Tom waved nervously.

"Tom." Nicolas repeated. "Our Tom? The wizard formerly known as Lord Voldemort?"

"That would be the one." Harry replied, eyeing him hesitantly.

Nicolas's eyes darted between Harry and Tom. His lip twitched. His jaw quivered. Finally, he could hold it in no longer. He collapsed into a chair, howling with laughter.

"Harry... Potter... And... Voldemort..." There were tears streaming from his eyes "In love... Oh, this too good." He took in a big chocking breath and promptly bust into another gale of laughter.

"It's- it's not that funny." Harry muttered, blushing.

"If I could just correct you on one little point, Harry- it's the funniest thing I've heard in my life." Nicolas sputtered.

"Don't listen to him boys, I think it's very sweet."

"No you don't!" Nicolas gasped, "you think it's just as funny as I do, you just have better self control."

Perenelle's cheek twitched, but she forced her mouth into a severe line and turned back to Harry. "I'm very happy for you two boys. We both are. Very much so."

She then surprised him by hugging them both, and after getting up off the floor Nicolas followed suit, though he still wore what Sirius would term a shit-eating grin on his face.

They both departed, and once the door closed behind them, both Tom and Harry could hear raucous howls of laughter from the other side, Perenelle's snickers mingling with Nicolas's guffaws. Harry scowled.

"Come, Harry," Tom said, "you do have to admit that this is a rather... amusing turn of fate. What with me being who I was, and our relationship being what it was."

"I suppose you're right." Harry grinned, "I just expected them to take it a little more seriously, is all."

"Well, if you're looking for a more dramatic reaction we can always announce ourselves to Dumbledore." Tom replied. "Or to Severus. That ought to provide you with some satisfaction."

"You're so evil!" Harry complained, "I don't know why I put up with you."

"I do." Tom replied smugly, taking hold of his hand.

 **The End**

* * *

Thank you all for reading the story. I want you to know that I love you dearly! I would love to hear what you thought of ending and the story in general. Thank you so much for letting me share this with you!

Also, keep your eye out for another Tom/Harry story of mine that will probably show up sometime in the next month :)


	10. Sort-of-epilogue

**AN: After I finished this story I got many reviews saying that it ended rather abruptly. The reason for this is that I had a few more scenes planned out that would tie up all the loose ends, but they were honestly pretty boring and I didn't think anyone would care to read them. The thing is, I also got a whole bunch of reviews wondering how Dumbledore/Snape/the Order would react once they found out about Harry and Tom. Now, in my original plan they never found out about Harry and Tom because it would be too dangerous for Tom. But one night, I wrote this short little burble in response to a review wondering what it would be like if Snape found out. It's not my 'official' version of the events, but there you go. Recently, I finally got enough reviews wanting to know what it would be like when they found out, that I figured I might as well post this.**

 **So the point of all of this is that this isn't meant to be taken seriously. It's just a silly short thing for any of you who might want to know what the finding out scene would look like according to me. Enjoy!**

* * *

Severus winced as pain flared up his left arm. Sighing, he jotted down a quick note on a spare bit of parchment, informing Albus that he had been summoned by the Dark Lord, and with a quick tap of his wand, sent the note flying to Dumbledore's office.

Apparating to a dusty room that had once been the library of Riddle Manor, Severus bowed reverently at the Dark Lord's feet.

"Ah, Severus, my faithful servant." Severus noted with worry that the Dark Lord appeared to be in a very good mood. In fact, he looked positively smug.

"Now listen carefully, Severus, I want you to pay very close attention to what I am about to tell you, because I need you to repeat it word for word to Dumbledore later on, and I don't want you to leave anything out. In fact, I'd prefer it if you simply showed the headmaster a memory of this conversation so that he will miss nothing.

"Oh, don't give me that face, Severus, I already know that you're spying for Dumbledore, and I'm obviously not going to kill you, since I need this message passed on."

"My Lord, I would never-"

"Oh, shut up, Severus. I honestly couldn't care less. Now, on with my message:"

Voldemort began pacing as he relayed his missive.

"Greetings Albus, various members of the Order of the Phoenix, and whomever else Severus might choose to share this memory with. I have, as of late, abandoned my plans for world domination, muggle subjugation and committing unspeakable evil, in favor of enriching my personal life outside the political sphere. It has been pointed out to me that the courteous thing to do would be to inform you, so that you may stop wasting time, energy and resources in attempting to fight me and my terrorist organization. I hope this news will allay some of your worries and fears, and I wish you all a pleasant summer."

A few seconds passed before Severus became aware of the fact that he was gaping. "M-m-my Lord?"

"Yes, Severus?"

Suddenly Severus could think of nothing to say.

The Dark Lord sighed. "I'm sure this comes as a surprise to you, but it's actually very simple. It was, in the end, as Dumbledore always had predicted, the power of love that swayed me from my evil ways. You see, I have fallen in love with Harry Potter, and as a result some of my goals and attitudes towards life have shifted. Speaking of which, he requests that while you are at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, you send the message to his friends telling them he'll try to drop by later this week."

"Y-You have him, My Lord? Is he here?"

"Yes, of course he is." Voldemort snapped impatiently. "I just told you I fell in love with him. Do I strike you as the type of person to sit around and pine all day? I have already won his heart. Now, begone! Harry and I are in the middle of a game of Monopoly I must be getting back to. The stakes have gotten rather high." And he made a shoo-ing motion with his hand.

Severus took the hint and scampered.

"Very nice." Harry smirked, taking off his invisibility cloak, "I'll admit, I didn't think you'd actually do it."

"But I did, and a deal's a deal. Give me Park Place."

Harry handed him the property, smiling smugly.

* * *

Dumbledore beamed as he emerged from the pensieve. "Severus, this is wonderful news! Tell me, how can you look so miserable in the hour in which the war has finally been peacefully resolved after all these years?"

"You- You don't think it's a trap, or a plan of some sort?" Severus asked skeptically.

"Of course not! Have I not always told you, my dear boy, not to underestimate the power of love? I have just been proven right once again!"

"Pardon me, Albus, but don't you think that he could just be lying about falling in love with Potter?"

"Rubbish!" Albus declared, "Did you see how his eyes softened when he mentioned Harry? How he smiled ever so softly when he mentioned their game of Monopoly? You can't fake that kind of thing."

"Then we shall agree to disagree." Severus declared.

"Oh, Severus, you old cynic."

 **The end.**


End file.
